guys i hate having to say this again but PLEASE. if you do not like my stories, please scroll along. i always list when my content is dark or not (which it usually is,and I have many disclaimers of that and warnings). i understand it is not for everyone and am perfectly okay with that! just scroll please n thanks <3 usually at the top of my stories i have warnings or a summary of what the fic will be about. why read if you know for a fact you will not like it? I DONT GET IT KJDKDS ALSO PLEASE only 18+ MDNI. Seriously. okay much love my angels <333
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Sometimes purpousfuly forgets parts of his lunch so she can come to the site he's working on and give it to him along with a kiss - likes it when that scot he's friends with compliments her outfit.
Not to mention, she gets bored. Sometimes works part-time at a daycare, but Simon insists he dont want her working full time, says she's not made for it. So bored.
bimbo reader my beloved
Itâs always the least important part of the lunch too. something that he can absolutely survive the day without, like an apple or bag of nuts but she just wants to see her man!
when she arrives on site, all the men get so distracted and keep their eyes on her but she doesnât notice, only looking out for simon and excitedly clapping her hands together when she finally spots him
a big smile on your face when you tell him how nice his friends are! how johnny told her that he likes her cute little outfit, only for him to grumble that heâs not his mate (he is)
âyeah, Iâm sure he likes a lot more than your outfit, poppet.â heâll mumble, rolling his eyes but you surely donât know what he means by that!
gives you the most possessive kiss when he sees everyone eyeing you like a hungry dog. take his dirty work gloves off and grips your jaw tightly, sliding his tongue into your mouth whilst you melt against him
she does two 6 hour shifts a week and loves complaining about how tiring it is to her man who does 50+ hours and at least 3 double shifts a week. rubs your back and coos at you sweetly, âmust be so stressful, lovie. poor thingâ
stepdad!rick where you're the daughter of a jessie-esque (I feel like she's too young to have a grown ass daughter but ig its possible) woman he meets and starts dating in Alexandria,,,, and you're a sweet little angel so so sheltered never seen a walker in real life never had to go hungry or lift a single finger,,, and it drives him crazy sometimes how clueless you are about everything and how you look at him and his people like they're wild animals, feral dogs you let in off the street,, but he also knows you're not being mean about it you just.... are curious and confused and a little attracted by how much they scare you :')
thinking of the first time rick fucks you and how he growls into your neck and bites you, leaving teeth marks all over your thighs, and you're in a constant state of fear but also so fucking turned on....
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bratty!spoiledprincess!reader with older!stepdad!ceo!joelmiller where she texts him during his super important meeting when sheâs feeling particularly needy and bratty.
r: daddy i need my button kissed :(
Joel immediately chokes on his spit, grunting out a grumbly apology when his coworker that was presenting a project to him looks at him confused.
Hi angels <3 I have been absent because I got swept up in a relationship. He broke up with me a week ago and Iâm so heartbroken. He wasnât good for me, though. He was mean a lot of the times and manipulative. I just want to get past this pain. Does anyone have any tips for getting over heartbreak?
Tags - dad!joel, incest, smut, one shot, dad jokes, banter, dad!joel eats slim jimâs (sorry. theyâre a certified #dadclassic), road head, blow job, cum swallowing, fingering, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, somno-ish, Nirvanaâs MTV Unplugged in New York lol. Sweet and loving nostalgia. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS. 5.5k words
A/N - Heâs back, daddyâs girls 𩷠thank you for your patience. And thank you to all who contributed in the #dadsnacks discussion! That was very valuable.
Joel pulls his truck up next to the gas pump, then puts the vehicle into park and steps out. With your head against the window, you watch him through the windshield thatâs all spattered in gnats and flies, Dad rounding the front of his truck. He looks so handsome, brows knitted together as he untwists the gas cap and puts the pump inside, graying hair blowing in the breeze. He pulls out his wallet then, reads a little sign, and then hangs his head back in irritation. âGod dammit.âÂ
Joel taps twice on your window, voice muffled as he speaks, âGotta pay inside,â he says. âLetâs go.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âDad, let me just stay,â you whine.
But Joel doesnât budge. âNo can do, kiddo. I donât like ya out here alone,â he says. âCome with, come pick out some junk food with me, huh?â
âI donât wantâŚwhatever.â You canât fight the smile that grows on your face. Joel knows all too well how to bribe you, his sweet fucking girl. You unclick your seatbelt and Joel opens the truck door, and he takes your hand and helps you down.Â
Heâll never stop doing that, you know. He knows youâre big now, all grown up. Your legs are longer and youâre more graceful than the little punk kid you once were, but Joel will always, always help you down. You bit it one goddamn time and ended up with a big gash on your forehead and all these scrapes on your knees, and you screamed bloody murder when Joel dumped peroxide on your skin to clean the wounds. It broke his fucking heart, hurting you like that, even if it was to help you in the long run. At least he got a giggle out of you when he let you hurt him - âhurtâ him back by punching him in his strong bicep. Ouch, kiddo. Uh huh. Hurts real bad. Yep, weâre even now.Â
Joel holds the glass gas station door open for you, then points to a stack of baskets. âYou know what to do.âÂ
Joel follows you through the gas station, loving that beautiful grin on your face as you grab his snacks first - his preferred junk food never changes. Snickers, sunflower seeds, a honey bun, a couple of Slim Jimâs and some Reeseâs peanut butter cups and a big bottle of Arizona Arnold Palmer to wash it all down. You did good, kiddo.Â
Dadâs turn. Joel picks out Sour Patch watermelons, your very favorite. He grabs you a big bag of white cheddar popcorn, too, and some of those mini powdered donuts. You always had a thing for those donuts. Joelâs standing in front of the refrigerated section, thinking hard about what to get you to drink. You approach him and browse with him. âCould get ya Bug Juice,â he teases, nudging your arm. ââMember those?â
You laugh out of your nose, âEw,â you giggle, scrunching your face.
âYa liked âem when you were little,â Joel replies, opening the fridge and grabbing you a cherry Coke. You smile, Dad knows you so well. Â
You and Joel bring your items up to the register, where the attendant scans everything. Joel reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, then narrows his eyes at an end cap that catches his attention. âGrab me oneâa them Paydays, would ya?âÂ
You raise your eyebrow and put your hands on your hips and Jesus, you truly are your fatherâs daughter. Same fucking mannerisms and facial expressions right there.Â
âDad, no. You broke your tooth on one of those the last time you ate one.âÂ
âIt was one time,â Joel argues quietly, snatching a Payday himself, and handing it as well as a couple of bills to the attendant, whoâs laughing at this argument. âPut the change on pump four, please,â he tells her.
âDadââ
âCan it,â Joel says. âTooth was already cracked to begin with. Thank ya, maâam,â he says to the attendant, swiping the white plastic bags full of snacks off the counter. Then he nods his head in the direction of the door.Â
âIt was not,â you mumble, more for the attendantâs ears than for Joelâs. You wish her a nice rest of her day.Â
Outside, Joel opens his truck door for you and helps you into it, then fills his truck with gas. When heâs done, he puts the pump away and joins you in the driverâs seat, the engine roaring to life as he turns the key. Youâre back on the endless highway in minutes, snacking on junk food together.Â
âAnd ya know the great thing,â Joel starts, pausing to take a swig of his drink, âAll this garbage sâonly eight thousand calories.âÂ
âItâs not, actually.âÂ
âYeah, howâs that?â
You swallow the Sour Patch watermelons you were chewing. âBecause it doesnât count when you eat it in the truck.âÂ
Joel laughs at that, eyes crinkling with his smile. âYou are wise beyond your years, girl.â Heâs got his window cracked, and the wind is blowing his curls back. The sun beginning to set makes his dark eyes shine a vibrant amber in its glow.Â
Another hour passes. You notice a Volkswagen Beetle and punch Joel in his bicep, snickering. Before he can argue, he notices the car, too. âDidnât say slug bug, darlinâ. Doesnât count.âÂ
âDoes too.âÂ
Joel takes his right hand off of the steering wheel and makes his pointer finger and thumb into a circle, and holds it above the floor of the truck. âPsst. Whatâs that, kid? That a bug on the floor?â You gasp when you look down and roll your eyes when you see Joelâs circle, and he punches you in the bicep in return, laughing triumphantly. He punches lightly, of course. Dad never rough houses too hard with you, baby girl. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, then shakes out his arm. âGoddamn, girl. Your punch is gettinâ harder.â
More time passes by, and youâre keeping track of the number of flies that smack the windshield. You and Joel played twenty questions - he was thinking about coffee, and you were thinking about a cat. He tried to play again, but you shut him down. âIâm bored,â you whined instead, and Joel told you that you could go play in traffic.Â
Youâre flipping through radio channels now, looking for something to listen to. Remember when Uncle Tommy would sit with you in the truck with some AM station on? Joel hated that. He thinks thatâs partially where you got your attitude from, or at least where you learned to argue. Uncle Tommy would beg to differ, though. He thinks you and his brother are the same fucking person. Joel can make all the excuses he wants, and itâll never change the fact that everything he is - the good, bad, and the ugly - you are too.Â
Joel reaches over your head for the CD case attached to the mirror above your seat and pulls out Nirvanaâs MTV Unplugged in New York. He puts it into the disc drive, humming along to âAbout a Girlâ. You donât remember it, but Joel used to play this album for you to get you to sleep, sometimes. Heâd sing âWhere Did You Sleep Last Nightâ to you, too. Not very well, but neither of you gave a shit, because it was your special thing. Just for you and him, you and Dad.
âAre we almost home?â
âDo you see our house, baby?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
Joel gives you a silent look in response, and you sigh dramatically. âIâm bored to fucking death,â you complain.Â
Joel clicks his tongue. âTo death, huh? Sâa shame. Well, was nice knowinâ ya.âÂ
âDaaaad.â
âOh, I know, I know, I know.â Joel leans over and pushes open the glove box, and rummages around for a pen and some paper. He finds a napkin instead. âDraw me somethinâ pretty,â he tells you.Â
You take the napkin, and you can tell itâs many years old by the words âa note for your lunchâ that are written on them in faded ink. You chuckle and put that napkin back, and find a different, blank one instead.Â
You canât believe itâs still there after all these years. When you were in elementary school, you asked your dad to leave you a note in your lunch box because you liked that the other kidsâ parents would write them sweet and loving notes. Notes like, youâre gonna do great on that test! I love you!Â
And what did your dear old man, Joel, write? A note for your lunch.Â
Joel would give anything to see the look on your face when you opened it, but in truth, he could perfectly picture it in his imagination when he was at work that day. Your cute little pout, inherited directly from him. When he picked you up from school later, you angrily handed it back to him.Â
âWhat? Sâwhat ya asked for, right? A note for your lunch?â
âI hate you.âÂ
âUh huh,â he smirked.
You put your pen to your napkin before youâve even got the faintest idea of what you want to draw, you just hope youâll end up somewhere eventually. A squiggly circle here, a wobbly line there, all accidental mistakes. You groan in frustration, then put the napkin and pen back in the glove box. âI donât wanna draw. Itâs too bumpy.âÂ
Joel sighs deeply and puts his head against his left hand, his elbow resting on the driverâs side door. âYou donât wanna draw,â he starts, âDonât wanna play games, either. Just wanna complain, huh?â
âYep,â you answer, crossing your arms and resting your face against the glass window.Â
âThen fâya wanna complain, Iâll give ya somethinâ to complain about.â
You look over and see Joel switching his grip on the wheel. He uses his right hand to start to unbuckle his belt, his eyes darting from his crotch to the road ahead. âGimme a hand here, kiddo. Shouldnât be takinâ my eyes off the road.â Another one of his do as I say, not as I do moments.
âNow?â
âYes, now. Câmon now, donât make me ask twice.âÂ
You huff and puff and sigh as you unbuckle yourself to take care of Joelâs belt and jeans. You poor girl, all bored and antsy. Your generationâs gonna have a tough time figuring that one out, Joel thinks. Keeping yourself entertained without a screen in front of your face. Shoot.Â
Heâs getting hard as your soft, gentle hands undo the leather, patting over his bulge. Joel lets out a sigh when he feels you drag the zipper down, fingers tugging on fabric to free his cock. Joel sucks in his soft belly and pulls himself out for you, giving his length a couple of strokes with his fist before letting you take over.Â
Itâs difficult to keep his eyes on the road with you bent over his crotch the way you are, with one of your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and the other on his thigh. You begin with a couple of kisses pressed against his soft tip, moving your way down his veiny shaft. You are dadâs kind, sweet girl, through and fucking through. He keeps the fact that this is quite an excruciating tease to himself, because he likes your generous kisses, finds it cute that you do this.Â
You circle his head with your tongue just twice, then take Joel into your mouth completely, gagging yourself in the process. You feel embarrassed as Joel pats your back, softly warning you, âEasy - woah - easy, baby girl. Not all once, honey, thatâs how ya choke.â He chuckles after he says it.
It took Joel forever to stop cutting your grapes in half.Â
He rests the back of his head against his chair as you try again, this time working your way down his shaft a little slower. Youâre making a mess of both yourself and Joel, just like he tells you to. âWith your hand, baby, just like I showed ya,â Joel reminds you. You move your hand in time with your bobbing head, and the quiet, pleasured groans Joel makes go straight to your core. âDoinâ so good, honey. Attagirl.âÂ
He grunts in surprise when you pull away suddenly, whining his name. Daaad. Joel pulls his eyes from the road momentarily to watch you pull one of his wiry, graying pubic hairs off of your tongue. He laughs, âOh shit, I know. My bad, kiddo, Iâll trim first thing tomorrow.â
âYou better,â you murmur, wiping your hand on his jeans. You bend back over and continue pleasuring him, and look at how quickly you find your rhythm, baby girl. Itâs that steady, quiet, mindless repetition that calms you down, regulates your system. Joel tries to stress the importance of slowing down to you, of getting your mind off of stuff and things. Itâs those quiet, repetitive activities that help you. Folding laundry, sorting buttons. And then, your oral fixation is satiated when you bob your head up and down on Dadâs cock, too, isnât it? And it helps that much further, pacifies you in a sort of way. Funny how that works, huh?
Joel gives your back a couple of taps to signal his impending release. You pump your fist and massage the underside of his cock with your tongue, working him to his peak. Joel moans your name with all the love in the world as he cums all over your tongue, and you taste each rope of the very spend youâre made from, swallowing it all with a hum turned squeak when Joel tugs on your hair a little too hard. âSorry, kiddo,â he apologizes quietly. Dad always did have a tendency of being rough with your hair when he would put it into pigtails or braids, but you were always a little tender headed, too, werenât you? Christ, he misses doing those pigtails. The smell of green apple scented Suaveâs detangling spray, those colorful hair ties he was always buying. Joel always wondered where theyâd disappear to.Â
You take a sip of your Coke, then lay your head on Joelâs lap with the back of your head resting against his soft tummy, all tuckered out, just like he wanted you to be. Dad pushes some hair out of your face and traces the curve of your ear, rubbing the cartilage between his fingertips.
Your father has such gentle, loving hands as he runs one of them down your body, tugging up on your shirt. He rubs the valley between your hip and your waist, where it dips just so, then runs his hand over the curve of your ass. He pats you in time with the beat of Nirvana playing over his tinny speakers, then lets his fingers travel lower. He traces that little diamond shape that frames your pussy so perfectly, and tugs your soft shorts and panties to the side, dipping just his middle finger into you.Â
Joel can feel you clenching around his knuckle as he pumps it in and out of you, and he can hear that soft murmur of pleasure you let slip. âYeah, that feels nice, huh, baby?âÂ
âSânice,â you mumble in agreement, and Joelâs adding a second finger. Dadâs got you memorized by hand, and knows how to touch you to make you come undone for him like youâre meant to. A little wiggling, curling of his fingers and youâre gasping, dripping into your cotton panties. Joel pulls his fingers out and slides them up the warm, wet seam of your pussy, and he finds your clit swollen and throbbing. Poor kid, he thinks. That canât feel good.
He rubs your clit in steady, expertly made circles to get you off. Heâs not looking to make you cum especially hard or anything like that - just a soft, sweet orgasm to soothe you off to sleep for the rest of the ride.Â
There are days when Dad does just that to you though, where he overstimulates you and fucks you so hard you sob. Sometimes heâll shove his fingers down your throat to keep you from making too much noise, and heâll feel a little guilty when you gag on them. Sorry, baby. Dad got ahead of himself.Â
And then, there are days where you ride him until youâre out of breath and gasping for air, where Joel has to slow you down and force you to take a break. Time out and have a sip of water, kiddo. Thereâs no rush. Dadâs not going anywhere.Â
Dadâs taught you the nuances of sex, and youâre lucky for that. To learn from someone who loves you and whoâs so patient and experienced, similarly to when he taught you to drive. It doesnât have to be all rough and grabbing hands, grabbing fistfuls of hair and flesh like you see in some TV and movies. Dadâs introduced you to the simple pleasure created between a body pressing against another body, the special warmth that comes from skin resting on skin, bones resting on bones, muscle twitching against muscle. Heavy breaths syncing as his arms wrap around your shoulders and waist, holding you close. Soft, gentle, never ending orgasms simply experienced for the sake of being experienced.Â
Joel doesnât change his pace at all when your clit starts to throb and pulse rapidly. âThatâs it, honey. Cum for Daddy.âÂ
He works you through your orgasm, right until youâre whimpering, âS-stop, Dad, please. Mâdone, all done.â
âAll done?â Joel asks, and you nod. He pulls his fingers from you and sucks them clean, then puts his hand on your back again. A little bit of rubbing, maybe some scratching, and youâre out like a light. Joel looks down at your sleeping face and notices a bit of his spend still on your lips. He licks his thumb, brings it to your mouth, then wipes it away.Â
And wouldnât you know it, your song is playing. Joel sings along to the lyrics, repeatedly rubbing your cheekbone with his fingers, looking down at you every so often, though he knows he shouldnât.Â
Sometimes, Joel will still instinctively look into his rearview mirror and angle it down, looking for your little legs kicking in your booster seat. Those days are long gone now, but the alternative isnât so bad, is it? His sweet little girl asleep in his lap, drooling onto his jeans. The sunâs gone down, and thereâs another two hours before heâll be home with you. Joel holds his forearm protectively around your body.Â
When those two hours pass, Joel pulls into his driveway, then shuts off the truck. He puts his keys into the pocket of his soft, worn shirt, and heâs gentle as ever when he lifts your head from his lap, doing this silly and awkward, careful maneuver as he opens the truck door and slides out of the vehicle. He leans over your body and grabs you in his strong arms, then carries you tightly against his chest. Joel closes the truck door shut by kicking it with his foot, then looks down at you.Â
Your sleeping face, knocked the fuck out. Lips plump and pouting, drooling - thereâs a nice stain of spit on his jeans, too. Not that Joel minds any. Lord knows heâs cleaned up worse from you. âOhh,â he sighs quietly. âWhatâm I gonna do with ya, my girl?â
Drives in Joelâs truck always put you to sleep. Joel remembers when you were a baby, and fucking inconsolable. Colicky, you poor thing. All out of sorts. Nothing worked to soothe you - not a bottle, not a story, not being rocked or bounced or anything else. And Joel didnât have the heart to just let you cry it out, either. He just couldnât stomach listening to you cry like that, all alone and scared because your dad wasnât there, and you needed him.
You kept Joel awake for days at a time, screaming your little head off. Joel was at his wits end with you, and he needed a break before he screamed his head off, too. So he buckled you into your little carseat and began driving to Uncle Tommyâs. Tommy owed him one, anyway. And you always had a thing for Tommy, too, which helped. You were sweet on him from day fucking one. He just had this special way with you, where he could soothe you and charm you out of your moods in a way Joel couldnât always do. It made Joel jealous, if heâs being honest with himself. Still kind of does.Â
On that particular drive, Joel had realized at a point that he could actually hear Nirvana playing on the radio, and not your agonized screams and cries. In however many minutes it was youâd gone out like a light, and itâs like everything clicked in that moment. Whenever you got too fussy to relax, heâd just drive with you, his sweet baby girl. Sometimes listening to music, sometimes not. Sometimes Uncle Tommy would come with and he and Joel would talk in whispers that lulled you off to sleep, paired with the dull roar of the truckâs engine.
Joel grunts when he carries you inside, muscles burning as he brings you up the stairs. âWhenâd you get so fuckinâ big, huh?â he murmurs, laying you down on his bed. He tells himself you probably wouldâve ended up in his bed, anyway. Joel unties your shoes one at a time and slips them off, quietly placing them on the floor. And it wasnât so long ago that your shoes had velcro straps and lit up when you ran, was it? Good fucking god.
Joel takes off your clothes, one article at a time. Socks and pants first, then panties. He gingerly slips your arms back through your sleeves and the collar of your shirt up and over your face, careful not to disturb your slumber. But of courseâŚ
âDad,â you mumble, voice thick with sleep.
âShit, sweetheart. Mâsorry,â Joel whispers, stroking the side of your head. âDidnât mean to wake ya. Go back to sleep, darlinâ. Sâokay. Youâre home.âÂ
You shake your head, wiping your eyes as you sit up. âCanât sleep,â you argue tiredly.
Joel scoffs a laugh. âOh bullshit, yes ya can. Youâve been knocked out for a while now,â he whispers, pulling off his own shirt. âJusâ close your eyes, honey. Be right there to snuggle ya.â
âMm-mm. Rock me, Daddy.âÂ
Oh, Joel knows what that means. When he looks at you, heâs met with pleading, tired, and big eyes, asking him oh-so-kindly to rock you. Youâre a master manipulator with those eyes of yours, you know. It took Joel a long time to learn not to cave to your puppy eyes, and it took Uncle Tommy even longer. If you asked Joel, heâd tell you that you can still get Uncle Tommy with that look.
âRock you, huh?â Joelâs cock jumps in his denim. âReckon sâa little late for that, kiddo. âSpecially for a weeknight.âÂ
âNo, please,â you beg, reaching for your dadâs warm hand and putting it between your thighs. âI need you, Daddy.â
âYâsure like to pull your âdaddyâ card when youâre wantinâ somethinâ from me, huh?â Â
Joel loves the way you canât hide your grin from his accusation. He sighs, then bites the corner of his lip to keep himself from mirroring the same smile. Itâs true what they say, about kids making you soft. âYeah, alright. Iâll rock ya,â he concedes, already pushing down his jeans and boxers. He plops in the seat of his La-Z-Boy rocker recliner thatâs been in the corner of his room since you were born, lazily pumping his own cock while patting his thigh. âCâmere.â
You groan as you stand up, pausing to yawn while stretching. âOhh, you are not long for this world, daughter of mine,â Joel murmurs, eyeing you as you move closer to him. You straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face into his neck, inhaling the warm, familiar scent of his skin. âScoot, kiddo. Câmon, up,â Joel grunts, urging you to sit up before spitting into his palm. âLazy ass.â You whine in disapproval but do it anyway, sighing when you feel the blunt head of Joelâs cock prodding at your folds. He passes his cock through your seam a couple of times, then lines up with your entrance.
âCareful, baby. Easy does it,â Joel grunts, easing you down his length, sighing at the feeling of being enveloped in your warm cunt, warm for him and him alone. Joel thrusts up a little to bottom out, soothing your cries with the kindest of kisses pressed against your lips. âThere she is. Down here, darlinâ. Right here.âÂ
Joel wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, close so that youâre chest to chest, skin to skin. He inhales deeply the scent of the top of your head and rubs your back, propelling the rocking chair with his feet on the ground. He notices goosebumps on your skin.
Rocking used to mean one thing, a long time ago. Joel soothing you to sleep, bonding with you. Your little self pressed against him, with a blanket over your shoulders and tucked under your feet as he read picture books to you. And it still kind of does mean that, in a way. Itâs different now, of course, and it was always going to change. But itâs just as special. Maybe even more so, now.
Joel groans as you clench around his length. âBedtime story,â you murmur against his skin. Youâre holding onto him so tightly, warming your hands on his soft body.Â
Dad chuckles. âWhat, am I supposed to read your textbook to ya or somethinâ? We donated all your picture books to Goodwill forever ago.âÂ
âJust wanna hear a story, Daddy.âÂ
âMhm.â You moan as Joel leans forward, reaching behind his head to grab a blanket draped over the recliner. He spreads it out, then wraps it around your shoulders. âLetâs seeâŚâ
Joel thinks for a moment, quietly rocking you on his cock. With one hand under your ass, he uses his armâs strength to assist in moving you up and down on his cock, just gentle, easy thrusts. His cockhead rubs perfectly against your g-spot, like you were made perfectly for him. And really, werenât you? Isnât this exactly what he brought you into this world for?
One of these things, at least.Â
âAlright. I know one,â Joel says.Â
âTell me,â you breathe.Â
âI lost ya once,â Joel admits quietly.Â
You hum in surprise, pulling away from Joel for a moment to look at him. âReally?â
Dad clutches you back against his chest, putting you right where he wants you. âSure did,â he answers, pausing for a moment. âFelt so fuckinâ guilty, kid. I thought I failed ya.âÂ
Your heart pangs at that. âDaaad,â you whisper sadly.
âYou couldnâtâve been olderân four,â Joel begins. âI was tryinâ to get some work done with Uncle Tommy here in the house and ya wouldnât leave us alone.âÂ
When you giggle at that, Joel groans softly. You clench around his cock when you laugh.Â
âYeah, laugh it up,â he continues in a soft voice. âEvery other minute you wanted juice or a snack or youâd be sweet talkinâ Uncle Tommy into playinâ dolls with you,â Joel says. âYou were drivinâ me fuckin nuts, girl.â Joel squeezes you tighter, then turns his head and kisses your forehead. âI sent ya outside in the backyard, which Uncle Tommy and I had just fenced in, mind ya. Because of you, if youâll recall.âÂ
âWhat do you mean?â
âI never told ya?â
âMm-mm.â
âI sent that fence up because of you, trouble. Iâd be grillinâ us hot dogs or somethinâ for dinner and Iâd have ya right by my side, drawinâ me pictures with chalk on the patio. Remember this?â
âMhm,â you murmur.
âDo you remember haulinâ ass across the yard the minute I turned my back?â
You giggle, âNo.â
âMhm, well - so Iâm grillinâ for us, right, and Iâd turn my back and pshoo, youâd be gone at the neighborâs house charminâ that sweet old lady outta the cookies she made. Miss Rosie was her name, right?â
âYeah, I remember her,â you say fondly. She passed away a few years ago. You and Joel had gone to her funeral.
Dad laughs at the memory. He remembers stomping across her lawn, âGet your little ass back here,â heâd scolded, and you looked like a deer in the headlights with chocolate all over your face. âDid you spoil your dinner?â
âNo, Daddy.âÂ
Joel huffed in frustration as he bent down to pick you up, then held you on his hip. âWell,â heâd said, tickling your chin with his finger, âWhat do you say to Miss Rosie?â
âThank you.âÂ
Joel rolled his eyes and apologized to her, but she didnât mind your little impromptu visit. Joel maneuvered you so that you were sitting on his shoulders, your little fingers tugging at his hair, and he marched you right back home.Â
âAnyway, you were bugginâ me anâ Uncle Tommy so I sent ya outside to make friends with a squirrel or somethin. And sure enough, you stayed busy out there,â Joel says.Â
He continues, âAnâ then I got nervous,â he explains. ââCause I couldnât see ya, and it was quiet. And quiet usually meant you were troublemakinâ, my sweet girl.â He continues, âSo I went lookinâ for ya out there and you were fuckinâ gone, kiddo. Gone,â Joel enunciates. âDidnât know if youâd snuck out through the fence somehow or if some fuckinâ pervert lured ya out with candy and snatched ya off the street. We called the cops anâ everything. Screaming your name, lookinâ for ya in the neighborsâ yards.â Joel sighs deeply before continuing. You squeeze him tight and kiss his neck, and he squeezes you back, almost like heâs trying to remind himself that youâre right here, safe in his arms, and everythingâs okay. âI was a wreck talkinâ to the cops. Cryinâ and everything âcause I lost my baby.âÂ
Joel inhales deeply. âAnd then,â he says, âA cop came up to me and asked me what shoes you were wearinâ, and I told him that you were wearing your pink Chucks. He told me to câmere and I found ya in the fuckinâ egress window. Little shoes pokinâ out.â
âWhat?â
âThe egress window, like the basement window,â Joel clarifies. âYouâd lifted up the grate and sat down there, made friends with some toads. Anâ then you fell asleep, you little shit.â Joel smiles at your giggle, the same sweet laugh youâve always had. âOh, you scared the bejesus outta me, baby girl. Think I started goinâ gray that fuckinâ day,â he whispers, then goes quiet as the story hangs in the air. âAnyway. Thatâs how I lost ya.â
âFather of the year, huh?â you tease quietly.
Joel rolls his eyes. âUh huh.â He wants to tell you how sorry he is still, all these years later. But he thinks you know. âI love ya,â is all he says when he focuses on fucking you in the rocking chair he used to soothe you to sleep in, working himself and you closer and closer to the edge. You wriggle your hand between your bodies and touch your clit, and the way Joel fucks himself into you provides enough friction that youâll be coming soon. He can hear it in the way you moan, or rather, the way youâve stopped moaning. When you go quiet, he knows youâre close. He is too.Â
Itâs only one, two, three long and deep thrusts before youâre coming, whimpering, âDad, Dad, Dad,â as Joel fucks you through it, finding his own orgasm. Fuck, coming with his baby girl. Is there anything in this world more precious and special than that?
You stay on Joelâs lap, dripping his spend. Just quietly coming down, held securely in Dadâs strong arms. Youâre exactly where youâre meant to be, and drifting off to sleep.Â
âAlright. Up, baby, up.â Joel pats your ass to rouse you. âI know youâre not sleepinâ.âÂ
But only silence from you.Â
âI canât stay like this with ya, honey, my backâll be all fucked up. Câmon, kiddo. Up.âÂ
You donât budge. Joel sighs deeply, accepting his defeat. Heâll stay like this with you, his softening cock buried in your pussy, maybe just for a moment longer. Rocking you gently, whispering sweet nothings to you. Heâs a fucking sucker for you, baby girl.
More dad!joel here and a playlist here!
Hi ⥠if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or sending an ask, but reblogs are especially appreciated. I get people are hesitant to publicly engage with a fic as icky as this one but it goes a long way in breaking the stigma, because after all, it is just fiction. Strength in numbers and all of that :) Itâs been a rough go for me lately. I love you, thank you for reading.
Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Readerâs locked inside an appliance, but sheâs into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.
Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this oneâs for you.
Word count: 8.3k
It was the closest thing to porn youâd ever done before.
Still, you werenât quite ready to call it that.
And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very specialâŚaccessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.
Okay, it was definitely porn.
But you never showed your face, so it didnât really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.
You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.
Then you saw it and felt instant reliefâthey were leaving.
Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, donât be like that.
By âlike thatâ he meant sensible. And by âperfectly fineâ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your motherâs lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a âyesâ in returnâand when she shyly reminded him that he couldnât afford to get another DUI, heâd get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.
It didnât bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmerâs market, but youâd be lying if you said you didnât hope heâd get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.
At any rate, you didnât have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guyâs grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest âcostumeâ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew youâd be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.
If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, youâd be all good to go for the job.
TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???
TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.
Looking back, you probably shouldnât have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequencesâforced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey youâd dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.
The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.
Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:
TRMAN22: Bet youâd look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!
TRMAN22: Why donât you try one on for me?
It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and âTRMAN22â was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. Heâd paid $300 for this video alone.
TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)
You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.
The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldnât find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.
Not hereâŚnot hereâŚnotâ
You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.
âhere, not here, notâ
âEW!â you shrieked.
In your search, youâd inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machineâs interior.
A pair of boxers, it seemed.
You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.
Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.
The boxers wouldnât budge.
You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.
Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you wereâfully encased in metalâthe sound just echoed.
âFuckingâŚCUNT.â
You werenât sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdadâs skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.
The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabricâjust when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give wayâyou heard a low pop. You felt it, too.
Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joelâs boxers. It seemed youâd pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckleâtrapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.
You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didnât stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.
To your horror, your finger was stuck.
âFUCK!â
You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your familyâs washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to haveâand wearing your old school uniform to bootâyou realized at once you were fucked if you didnât get out.
You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.
âFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!â
You werenât good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to lifeâs uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ânoâ wasâ
âAw, shit.â
âJoel.
Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.
Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way youâd rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.
Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.
And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.
âWhat in theâwhâthââ You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, âWhatâ inâ the hell?!â
âHelp me,â you hissed.
You werenât sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you werenât sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.
âThe fuck do you mean âhelpâ?! What are you doing?â
The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldnât.
âI-IâmâŚI was justâŚâ you stammered, heart racing.
You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.
âJustâtryingâŚâ you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.
You could smell him.
That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, reallyâfeeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub forâŚsafety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.
You wished your finger wasnât jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.
At length, Joelâs voice dragged you back:
âWhatâs stuck?â
Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,
âThis some fuckinâ jokeâa yours or somethinâ?â
âNo!â
âThen whatââ
âMy finger. My fingerâs stuck.â
You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.
When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as youâd felt before, only sharper. Shameful.
The look on Joelâs face was abnormally bright.
âAnd how on earth did that happen, dumbass?â
Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdadâs features.
ââCause of you, leaving your shit in here!â you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, âI was just trying to get your boxers unstuckâand my fingerâŚâ
Your finger was kind of fucked.
Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertionâlikely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.
The warmth got worse. You werenât sure where it started.
Vaguely, you were aware of Joelâs thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.
âWell that ainâtâŚgood.â Not one to mince words.
By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so closeâ
âJust get me out!â you shrieked.
You heard your motherâs voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.
Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.
âCool your pits, kid.â
For that, you wouldâve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.
âOkay, lemme justââ Joel started.
âWhy are you home, anyway?â
The question came out more clipped than you meant it.
âWhy are you dressed like that?â Joel countered evenly.
âI asked you first.â
âI asked you second.â
You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasnât able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.
âMama donât like me drinkinâ and drivinâ, you know that.â
With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.
âLike thatâs ever stopped you before.â
You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When heâd steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.
Maybe if he hadnât stayed crouched like that, he wouldnât have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldnât have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldnât have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.
Today just wasnât the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.
âAnd whatâs this?â You could feel Joel lean back in.
He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.
Youâd already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didnât know what it was.
But it became painfully clear that it wasnât just one âthingâ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didnât have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.
Gross.
Gross.
âGross,â Joel agreed, as if heâd read your mind. Grinning.
If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.
Your motherâs husband whistled and lifted something.
âDarlinâ, this is justâŚdisgusting.â
You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too greatâJoel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish heâd just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.
Doting, almost.
âWell Iâll beââ
âWill you quit?!â you snapped.
You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.
âCan you be serious? For one fucking seconââ
âOh, Iâm beinâ serious, sweetie,â Joel cut in. Cool as ever, âSerious as the business end of a .45, I swear.â
He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.
âDo you always keep your littleâŚskank tanks so filthy?â
That was it. You kicked your heel backâand upâand made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.
Your aim wasnât the best itâs ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joelâs jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.
What you werenât expecting was a smack in return.
An answer in kindâdelivered by the palm of Joelâs hand.
A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.
Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.
Joel spanked you.
Spanked you.
âFuckinâ brat,â he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldnât see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.
He was firmâunrelenting in his hold.
Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.
And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.
âJOEL!â you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.
The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.
âJoel.â
That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?
Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like heâd never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.
âGood?â Joel said.
Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.
It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, beggingâ
âPlease.â
But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didnât mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?
No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.
Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before youâbehind youâtoday, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.
He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.
Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you werenât the only weak one here, Joelâs palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.
âNow use your words.â
âButââ you sputtered.
âI said,â Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.
âWe use our words when we want somethinâ, hear?â
It was the first youâd heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.
That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.
Under your breath, quiet: âSo âweâ includes âyou,â too?â
Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to âuse words,â Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before youâd even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didnât flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.
âA dad makes rules. Ainât his to follow,â Joel growled.
You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the manâs reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.
âYou arenât my dad.â
âSaid âaâ dad, didnât I?â
âYouâre not that either.â
Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to dateâannoyance at Joel.
âSo that means Iâmââ
âNothing. Youâre nothing to me,â you finished, tone wry.
Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that youâre married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.
Your teeth clamped back downâand almost sank clean through your lower lip this timeâwhen next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a manâs hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.
Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.
He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.
You didnât have to be in Joelâs position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speakâor tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew heâd find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasnât a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.
âNothinâ, huh?â Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, âThis feel like nothinâ to you, honey?â
You couldnât speak. He knew you werenât capable of it.
ââCause this sure donât feel like nothinâ to me.â
Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldnât form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.
âYou can try lyinâ to me, but she canât.â
He was right. âSheâ was a traitor.
You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.
Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joelâs fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.
Joel whistled.
âSee? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.â
Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, âUh-hmmâ and tilted your hips, as if you didnât know how else to ask. Joel couldnât see inside the washing machine, but he mustâve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.
And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame shouldâve tripled. Shouldâve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.
A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.
âWhoâre ya wearinâ this for, sweet pea?â Joel murmured.
âNo one.â
Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside youâpushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.
And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.
âWhat do you care?â you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that heâd stretched you even wider.
ââCause,â Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when heâd add a third, âYou got your hand stuck in a fuckinâ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heapâŚI meanâŚâ
âTheyâre just clothes!â
âJust clothes?â
In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his toneâcall his bluffâbut the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldnât fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasnât quite ready to accept all three of Joelâs thick, probing digits inside. Youâd fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the manâs fingers now.
Why you couldnât take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.
You didnât expect him to stop. Didnât hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside youâthat just wasnât him. You didnât have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasnât in his nature to care.
So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldnât care, wouldnât inquire, wouldnât coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.
In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.
âJust clothes?â he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.
Then somehow send those expectations even lower.
There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldnât meet his gaze.
That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.
And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him mostâwell, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.
Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before youâd even realized heâd left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.
Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperationâsoiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attentionâas he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joelâs was bruising.
Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:
âWhenâs the last time you got fucked, baby?â
You reckoned Joel had a guessâand it wasnât correct.
âLastâŚweek,â you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.
Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Heâd barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than heâd felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldnât fathom what you were saying was true.
âThatâŚfratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?â
âDidnât think you even saw me leave.â
Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.
The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joelâs own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper
âSo thatâs who this is for?â Thumbing your skirt.
âY-Yeah,â you lied.
âWanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?â
âYes,â you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.
ââAtta girl,â he praised.
It mightâve been the first heâd validated you in your life.
âGrippinâ this cock extra tight, ainât ya, sweet girl?â
Never in a million years would you have imagined itâd come this lateâor leave Joelâs mouth in a way like that.
âElasticâ wasnât a word youâd ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.
He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldnât reach back because Joelâs fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.
And then he stopped.
Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.
He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yoursâthis time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.
âCan you be brave for me, baby?â Joel murmured.
âWhââ you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.
Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.
âCan you be brave?â he repeated, and you werenât sure youâd ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.
You nodded, not knowing why.
Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.
It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weightâand your hand throbbing in pain. Youâd never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the manâs arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.
âJoel!â you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.
You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.
This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.
It wasnât a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.
âYouâre okayâ came out muffled against your hand.
You hadnât even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasnât holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didnât cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.
Or, rather, itâyour finger.
Joel didnât have to care for you at all. He just feared he mightâve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.
âYouâre okayâ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.
Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruiseâa hand hickey, of all fucking thingsâand when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.
His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didnât know better, you mightâve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.
Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didnât seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.
Safe.
ââSâalright, baby,â he grunted. Maybe heâd just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, âKeep squeezinâ me, it feels real good. Right here.â
Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were notâhe had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal heâd drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadnât dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.
âRight here, baby. Look at daddy.â
Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the sameâstill, you couldnât refrain from making a face in disgust.
âWhat the fuck, Joel?â You shouldnât have liked it.
His hand ascended your throat in a blink.
âAinât that what you want, sweet pea?â
âIââ
Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.
âWhat you wantââ
He squeezed harder.
ââwhat you needââ
You gasped, starved for air. It wasnât every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.
ââis me, ainât it?â
The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.
âBet you miss him somethinâ awful, huh? Been needinâ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, havenât ya, baby?â
âHeâ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joelâs chest, just quit it.
Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.
âI donât miss shit,â you sniffed. Felt the head of Joelâs cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldnât pretend it wasnât filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadnât got this much attention from a man as many years your senior sinceâŚwell, ever, really.
You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.
Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.
âThatâs alright,â he said, words hardly above a whisper, âNo need to miss that man at all, âcause Iâm right here.â
For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.
Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.
âWhoâs your daddy now?â
You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.
âWhoâs your daddy?â
Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.
âWhoâs your daddy, baby? It ainât that hard to say.â
But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: âI know you wanna say it.â Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.
âI know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussyâs taken a beatingâand sheâs done so good for meâbut she needs to let it out now. All over me.â
His gaze held yours. You couldnât turn away.
An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didnât seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didnât stray.
âItâs okay to say it.â
âC-Canâtââ
âSure can. Be the easiest thing you ever doâD-A-D-Dââ
âPlease. Please.â
You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joelâs cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:
âPleasepleasepleaseplease.â
âSay it now. Whoâs it for?â
Above you, Joelâs teeth gleamed in a smileâor a snarl, you couldnât tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.
âWhoâs. Your. Daddy?â His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.
You couldnât take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joelâs cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that youâd had enough. He knew it, too.
âY-You.â
âWho?â
âJoel.â
âWho?â
Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.
âGonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?â
âMake a m-messâ yes, daddy, yesââ you slurred.
Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didnât even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.
ââwant yours inside,â you added, without realizing it.
âSweet girlâŚâ Joel groaned.
You didnât know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel shouldâve expected no less, after all the time heâd spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, âCum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, thatâs it, good girl.â Still, somehow, he wasnât prepared in the slightest.
When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him backâthat was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.
And when the whites of your eyes appeared againâeyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smileâand said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.
âCum inside me, daddy. Please.â
Joel couldnât have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlinâ donât move, canât lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.
And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as heâd pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machineâtilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.
The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.
Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.
It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.
Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.
Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.
As if remembering something.
In a second, the innocent smile youâd seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldnât place. Joelâs grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.
âBabyââ he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.
âWhat? What is it?â
His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.
âWhat?â
âItâs justâŚâ The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with itâstraight down to your bare pantyline.
You cast a look there tooââWhat the fuck is it, Joel?!â
At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.
âI thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.â
Your breaths slowed. His gaze didnât waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.
âWait, Joel, whââ
âShame you couldnât get around to filminâ today. Had me hard as a fuckinâ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.â
You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.
âYouâreââ
The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one whoâd paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.
You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.
Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasnât meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.
âBetween usââ he began, slowly.
âGet fucked,â you finished for him.
Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your motherâs footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.
Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final lookâthen a kiss:
âYou keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?â
â
Note: Iâve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoyâŁď¸
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I've been following you for a while but I tool a small break from tumblr and realized all your material lists are gone (T^T) is there any reason they are gone if you don't mind sharing
hiiii legit the only reason is cuz i got lazy and forgot to put new ones on the masterlist plus i changed my username n unfortunately tumblr then deletes the hyperlink on the masterlist ifu do that :(( buttt there are tags that have basically all of my stories when u go to search em up <3
Look at the mess youâre in now, sweetheart, cryinâ on a cock thatâs too fuckinâ big for you. What am I gonna do with ya?â
WARNINGS - Mean!joel, dom!joel, cock hungry!reader, impish!reader, one shot, size kink, Joel miller monster cock, âWe shouldnât be doing thisâ vibes, cause Joelâs all guilt ridden and sexually frustrated, lots of dirty talk, guided masturbation (joel talks you through fucking yourself), mid-fuck pep talk from a man old enough to be your father, girthy legal but unspecified age gap, fingering, pain kink, brief mention of tummy bulge, dacryphilia, dubcon, unprotected PIV, cream pie, cum eating, aftercare in the form of oral sex (f!receiving) wedgie kink if you squint, horny brain took over when I wrote this, dingy motel sex.
FIC HELP - @tofics!!! Thank you for the thorough beta, sweetheart!!! you did so fucking much to help me with this fic and i'm really fucking grateful, more than words could say!! @beefrobeefcal @cum-a-calla and @/endlessthxxghts (rip i miss your presence on this shitshow of a website every day) thank you sweet babes for all of the encouragement and support!! I love you all!!
A/N - Long time no see! Itâs been a while since Iâve posted a fic, even while since Iâve written for Joel. Gosh. I hope youâre all surviving the winter as best you can <3 itâs been a rough one, huh? Enjoy and have a safe rest of your week :)
The bed frame groans for the seventh time in a span of five minutes. Through his nose, Joel sighs in irritation at that sharp, grating creak, the sound of the bed hitting against the wood paneled walls to match. Youâve been at this for the last hour and a half - wriggling, flipping back and forth in the bed, tugging that old, scratchy, floral comforter off of Joelâs body to swaddle around yours, only to throw it off again seconds later. Youâve flipped your pillow more times than he can count, adjusting where you lay your head in search of that coveted cold spot.Â
Itâs hard to sleep when you keep touching him. Mindlessly, you press up against Joel, and inch away again. His patience for this routine of yours wore thin long ago, sanded down by too many nights of this same ordeal.Â
Joel feels the mattress dip and shift a little, the subtle warning of you gearing up to toss your body again, but heâs had enough. He grabs you by the wrist before you can do so, holding you tight enough so that you feel the rough calluses of his palm on your skin. âEnough. Quit fuckinâ squirminâ,â he rasps, his voice tired but edged with warning. âI told you to go to sleep an hour ago.â
âI canât,â you snap.Â
âBullshit. Yâainât even tryinâ.â
Joelâs heard this from you before. Youâve always been more restless, whereas Joelâs a heavier sleeper by nature, aided by the alcohol and the pills that lull him off into dreamless unconsciousness. But youâll keep him up anyway, usually complaining that youâre too hot. Or too cold. Or youâre thirsty, and you need some of his water. No, you donât have any. Yes, you know youâre a pain in his ass.Â
Joel will get you settled, only for you to start all over again. In the subsequent mornings, youâll be crabby and snapping at him, and heâll bite back just as hard, pissed off hours of his sleep were lost to you.Â
âSo whatâs your excuse this time?âÂ
âItâs nothing,â you mumble, adjusting in bed again. You kick your feet, toeing at the tangled fabric of your pants bunched up around your legs. Joel squeezes your arm in warning, nails pressing into your skin a little. âJoel - stop. Just let meââ
Joel cuts you off, âYeah, I know. Sit up.âÂ
Obeying him, you sigh and sit up straight, playing with a loose thread in the comforter as Joel leans over your side of the bed, his body radiating warmth and his own scent of something you couldnât name, something distinctly Joel - perhaps some sort of heavy soap or maybe whiskey. It radiates thick in the space between you and him. He fluffs your pillows a little, then places them back down. âLay down,â he tells you, and you fall back onto the soft, warm mattress. âSâthat comfortable?â he asks.
âYeah.â
Joel nods quietly, then reaches for the comforter next. He shakes it a little to smooth out the bunches in the material, then lays the flannel sheet over your torso, following with the comforter itself.Â
âAnd you have to tuck the blanket inââÂ
âBy your shoulders, I know,â Joel says, tucking the blanket under your chin and your shoulders. âEverything, huh?â
Joel settles himself next, situating his own pillows before lying on his stomach. âNow get some sleep. Do that slow breathinâ I told you âbout, remember?â
âI remember.â
âGood girl. Gânight, then.âÂ
âNight, Joel.â
Joel closes his eyes and nestles into the mattress, drifting off to something halfway between asleep and awake, but closer to the side of unconsciousness. You close your eyes too, counting your breaths. In for four seconds, just like Joel told you. Hold, out for four seconds.Â
Maybe itâd work if you werenât trying to force your body into it. If you werenât thinking about how very awake you are, when you shouldâve been asleep hours ago. If you werenât thinking about Joel.Â
Heâs been on your mind lately, more than usual. You spent so much time alone with him, learning all the neat things about him. He was such a brute at first, and speaking honestly, he still is. But thereâs a gentler side of Joel. Softer. Tender, in his own way.
You really, really fucking like Joel. Youâve never liked anyone the way you like him. He makes you feel all sorts of sensations. Anger, annoyance, joy. He makes your heart pound and makes you breathe funny sometimes, but not always in a bad way. You spend a lot of time just looking at him, tucking away the parts of him you love deep inside your brain, saving it for moments alone. His body is softer with his age, but his arms stay strong, shoulders so vastly broad. And his face, the wrinkles in his skin, those neat scars. That look he gets in his eyes when heâs pissed at you, and his lips and his frown. You watch the way he eats sometimes, fixated on the way his lips move, wondering how theyâd move against anotherâs. Maybe your own. His hands, as he traces maps, books, whatever. Veins and tendons twitching. His palms are so fucking big, so masculine.
Joel keeps his distance, always decent. Itâs not lost on you. You know he knows how you stare at him, contemplating whatever it is you think about in that head of yours. He doesnât want to know. Canât know.
His breathing is evening out now. His lips are parted, and you feel his warm breath on your cheek, tickling your earlobe. He looks so handsome bathed in that milky, bluish moonlight that pours in through the window over his face.Â
Thereâs an ache throbbing between your thighs, the same thing thatâs been keeping you up recently. Arousal. Joel seems to worsen the pain, just by existing, somehow. Even just thinking of him makes you throb a little harder.Â
Squeezing your thighs together alleviates that ache momentarily, so thatâs what you do. You cross one leg over the other and squeeze tight, but itâs not enough. Of course itâs not. You know what you need, something more sustainable than this. Something real, something raw. SomethingâŚJoel.
You give your underwear a gentle tug while rocking your hips, just needing that extra bit of pressure. Gripping tight the waistband of your panties while wiggling your hips, shaking the creaky bed a little in the process, the motion rouses Joel from his sleep. He opens one eye to watch you wriggle and jerk, noting that look of concentration painted across your features.Â
âWhatâre you doinâ?â
âJoel!â Your whole body jolts and you straighten your legs quickly, flattening your hands at your side. âNothing.â
He sighs, âIf youâre gonna lie to me, sweetheart, yâneed to be better at it. Now what is the matter with you?â
You have to be sharp here. You could tell the truth and have Joel inevitably scold you, call you a fucking pervert and that you should be ashamed of yourself orâŚ
âŚyou could bend the truth some, not much. Just a little fib. You spin the story quickly in your head. Something somethingâŚyou canât come on your own - lie, and you just need Joel to do it for you - another lie. Far be it from him to leave a girl in distress, right? Heâs got to be the hero, always. Has to save the day while bitching that youâd be dead without him. Because thatâs Joel Miller, always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and always by his own doing. How your heart bleeds for him as you proverbially rub your pointer finger and your thumb together, the worldâs tiniest violin playing just for him.
âItâs - fuck,â you groan, shifting in bed as you play up the lie. âItâs nothing. Just - something kind of hurts, thatâs all.âÂ
âWhat hurts? Let me see.â Joel sits up quickly, reaching for the light. âShow me,â he says.
âNo, Joel. You canât - itâs like, I donât know. ItâsâŚembarrassing, I think.â
âI donât care,â he grumbles. âYâgotta tell me. So spit it out, kid.âÂ
You exhale softly, closing your eyes. Joelâs lying on his side, sitting up a little as he carefully searches your face. You canât look at him right now because fuck, youâre a bad liar. You turn away so you donât break and smile or something. âIâm like, throbbing,â you murmur, âAnd wet, uhâŚdown there, I guess. I donât knowââ
Joel holds up a hand, âAlright, enough. Jusâ - go deal with it. Iâll give ya some privacy,â he says, sitting fully upright and taking off the covers.Â
âDeal with it how?â you ask, feigning ignorance. Youâll take this as far as it needs to go, or until youâre caught red-handed.
âYou know, likeâŚâ Joel waits for you to get the picture, but you just stare at him blankly.Â
âWonât it just go away?â God, you are so full of shit, you almost make yourself sick.
Joel scoffs quietly, and you have to bite down on your smile. Youâre playing him like a fucking fiddle. âIt donât work like that, sweetheart,â he says. âYou have to handle it on your own.âÂ
âCan you do it?âÂ
âFuck, no,â he answers quickly. But Joel looks down at you, contemplating. God, youâre fucking...this is the reason you keep him up so late? Part of him wants to leave you here, just like this, to figure it out and deal with it on your own. But Joelâs not confident thatâll happen, since youâve gone this long without it, apparently. Feels like a lie.Â
âOr can you help me?â
âHelp you how?â
âJustâŚmake sure Iâm doing it right. Like, how youâd do it to your lover or something.âÂ
âYou are fuckinâ ridiculous,â Joel sighs under his breath. âHow Iâd do it to my lover, huh?â
âRight.â
Joel thinks for a moment, then speaks, against his better judgement. âAlright.â He takes a deep breath in and out, taking in you on the bed, scanning the gorgeous outline of your body. âIâd spread her legs,â he says, watching the comforter move as you part your thighs. âWider than that,â he adds.
âLike this?â
âJusâ like that, sâgood,â Joel nods. âAnd Iâd take my hand,â he says, reaching for your wrist, âPut it right here, between her thighs,â laying your palm over your mound. âUnder her pants.â
âFuck, yeah,â you murmur, sliding your hand beneath your pants and panties. You press down a little, groaning softly at the pressure. Fuck, it feels good. Even better with Joelâs presence. âFeels good,â you sigh, pressing your fingers down harder against the sensitive bud. You can feel it throbbing beneath your fingertips.
âIâd rub her in circles.â
âHard or soft?â you ask. âFast or slow?â
âWhatever she wants,â Joel answers.Â
You spread your legs a little wider, your knee nudging against Joelâs tummy, and it takes everything he has not to touch you. It wouldnât be right, he believes. This act alone is pushing the bounds of his morals.Â
âLike this, Joel?â
Joel watches the comforter move above your hand as you trace steady circles into your clit, and stifles a groan. As his cock thickens and twitches in his pants, he inches away from you so you donât feel his arousal. âYeah, darlinâ. Like that.âÂ
âAnd then what?â
âIâd keep goinâ tilâŚwell, youâll figure that out.â
He takes a moment to watch, admire the show. Brows pinched together, a little bit of sweat sparkling on your temples. Joel can feel the heat radiating from your body as you work yourself, chest rising and falling, hips and legs twitching. âMâgonna leave you to it, then,â he mumbles finally, getting up to leave.Â
âNo,â you gasp, reaching for his arm with the hand you used to fuck yourself. Joel feels your arousal on his skin, and notices how wide your pupils are. âStay.â He does consider it for a moment. His fucking balls ache, desperate to find his own release too.Â
âItâs - itâs not enough, Joel.â
Clarity hits him then, and he shoots you a knowing glare. Youâre such a bad fucking liar, laying it on way thicker than you need to be. âItâs plenty,â Joel snaps, âIâm leavinâ. Hurry up anâ sort yourself out.â
âDonât go,â you beg. âCan you try it?â
âWhat? No.â
âWhy?â
âBecause,â Joel says. âItâs not a good idea. Câmon, honey, I know youâre smarter than this.â
âBut I canât do it on my own,â you argue back. âI think - fuck - I think I need you to fuck me. I need to come on your cock.â
âJesus Christ, sweetheart, you canât say shit like that. Mâold enough to be your fuckinâ daddy.â Joel rolls his eyes. This absolutely tracks for you, averse to doing any hard work at all. He pauses, then speaks, âYou donât need me to take care of this for you. Yâjust want it. I know you, kid. You donât like doinâ any hard work yourself. Am I right?â
âNo,â you insist, âI really think I need it. Need you.â
You look at Joel, silently begging him to give you what youâre asking for. Joelâs eyes dart left and right as he searches your face, breath hitched in his throat. God, the way you look at him. Your eyes are all wide and innocent and pleading, he knows youâre giving him that look on purpose. âDonât look at me like that, you fuckinâ...Christ almighty,â Joel groans. âFine,â he concedes.
âYouâll fuck me?â
âAbsolutely not,â he snaps. âYou can have my fingers. If I do this for you, will ya settle down anâ go to sleep?â
âYes,â you agree, nodding quickly. âIâll go right to sleep, Joel, I promise.â
Joel eyes you from the side. âYouâre fuckinâ trouble,â he mumbles, scooting closer to you. His bulge presses against your hip, eliciting a gasp from you. âJusâ ignore it,â he says. âDonât get any ideas.â
He loops his fingers over the waistband of your pants and panties, then tugs them down your thighs until he canât anymore. âTake âem off the rest of the way,â he tells you.
You wriggle off your pants, then pull off your shirt, now lying bare on the bed underneath the covers. Joelâs eyes widen, then he shakes his head. âSelective hearing,â he grumbles.
âWhat?â
âJust needed the bottoms gone, sweetheart.âÂ
âOh,â you whisper, sliding down the mattress a little more, covering your shoulders with the sheets. Joel props himself up on his elbow, the side of his head resting against his knuckles. His free hand travels over to you, fingers drumming against your hips.Â
âYâready?â
âMhm,â you hum, anxiety and excitement permeating the air. Joelâs hand slides down to your inner thigh, and he can feel the heat from your pussy, the way you vibrate with desire.Â
Joel should tease your pussy. He should make you ache for it, more than you already are. Trace your lips, press his finger against your wet slit to gather your arousal. Like he would with his lover, right? But he shouldnât even be here with you right now, god. Heâs too fucking old, and youâre too fucking young. The age gap alone makes his head spin, but fills a dark part of him with an animalistic type of hunger. A hunger to ruin you, you pretty, young thing. He reminds himself that this is simply a means to an end, nothing more.Â
He slides his warm palm over your mound, nudging your thighs apart a little more. When his fingers touch your clit, you sigh in relief. That alone feels miles better than your own fingers, so much more concentrated.Â
âJesus,â he murmurs, then rubs your clit. Not in circles, like he instructed you to do. He just rubs you there, fingers sliding back and forth over your clit as you relax into his touch. âYâshould be doinâ this yourself.â
âBut it feelsâŚit feelsâŚâ
âI know,â Joel says, slipping his fingers down the seam of your cunt to collect your arousal. Youâre so fucking wet. He drags them back up, then rubs practiced, steady circles over your clit. Itâs efficient and very bare bones, no bells and whistles or pulling out his usual stops. Joel has one goal, and thatâs to get you off as quickly as possible, and thatâs it. âFeels good,â he answers for you, then adds under his breath, âYouâre playin with fuckinâ fire.âÂ
You whimper, clutching Joelâs forearm as he guides you to orgasm. What he doesnât realize is just how close you are, only from a little bit of his touching. You know youâre on the brink of orgasm, but you also know that when you reach that point, thatâs it. Youâre done. Joelâs made that much clear, that this is all youâre gonna get from him, and it has to be enough. But of course, itâs not. Not even close.Â
Joel dips his fingers lower, pushing his middle and ring fingers into your pussy. He keeps a palm pressed against your tummy, then curls his fingers rhythmically, bringing you to a place youâve never been before. You moan loudly, writhing as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that special little spot he loves so much on a woman. Silently, Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit, guiding you closer and closer to the edge.
Joel can tell youâre about there, and heâs correct in that assumption. You feel like youâre about to break, staving off release. Everything feels heightened, thrumming with something electric and almost sharp. Your moans come out all breathy, Joelâs name broken as it spills from your lips. Lost in your head, Joel pulls you back down to earth, speaking softly to you. âYou gonna come for me, sweetheart?â
âN-no,â you whimper, shaking your head.Â
âYes ya are. Youâre right there, honey. Let go.â Joel rubs your clit a little harder to coax release along. Heâs waiting for that golden moment, where you tense up and gasp before falling to pieces, a melting, shuddering mess in his hands. OnlyâŚit never comes. Joel studies you intently, watching the way your face moves. Finally, he realizes that youâre fighting it.Â
âWhatâre you doinâ? Iâm givinâ you what you want, sweetheart, just fuckinâ come.âÂ
âNo,â you repeat, squeezing Joelâs wrist. âI donât want to yet.â
âWhy not?â You squirm a little, and Joel stops fucking you on his fingers. âHey - why the hell not?âÂ
âBecause I want you to fuck me,â you whisper quietly.Â
Joel scoffs. âOh, you are workinâ my last goddamn nerve. I already told you, sweetheart. You come on my fingers or you donât come at all. Choice is yours.â Joel continues circling your clit, but you still fight him.Â
âBut I want you to fuck me,â you repeat, begging, balling your hands into tight fists as you stave off release. âI just - I told you already, but youâre not - youâre not fucking listening to me, Joel. I needââ Your desperation makes the mask slip. You have got to pull yourself together before you fuck this entirely.Â
âHey - adjust the fuckinâ attitude. I already told you no, sweet pea. And I donât have to listen to you. You listen to me,â he grits, his tone biting. âGet that through your skull, because mâsick of repeatinâ myself.â
âWhy?â you complain. âWhy wonât you do it?â
âBecause,â he explains, âYou canât handle it, kid, I know you canât. Too big fâya. And itâs wrong,â he adds, âI shouldnât even be doinâ this to you.â Â
You love the challenge his words incite. Oh, youâll show him what you can handle, alright. Filled with a renewed sense of perseverance, you ground yourself and focus hard.Â
Joel focuses too, hellbent on not being a worse man. What heâd really like to do, really, is split you in two with his cock. Heâs not unaware of his size, what he does to a woman. Especially one like you, whoâs absolutely in over her head and has not the faintest notion of what he could do to her. Heâd teach you a fucking lesson, maybe. Shove his cock down your throat to watch you choke on it, feel that delicious pulse as you gag. He could fuck your ass, too, watch your eyes roll back into your skull as he makes you take all of him. Thatâd teach you to listen to him for once, right? A little pain to put you into place, you fucking brat?
Youâre right on the edge. You know it, and so does Joel. The way you soak his two thick fingers, your cunt pulsing around them erratically. Your brows are knit together as you twitch and shudder, trying your goddamn hardest to not come. Joelâs amazed at your will.
âCâmon, kid, just come for me. Be done with this,â Joel urges, frustration laced in his tone. âDonât piss me off, sweetheart. You donât want that.âÂ
You shake your head, âMm-mm - n - I wanna, I need your -â
Joel holds his palm over your mouth, cutting you off. âNo. Youâre not ready for it,â he tells you. âYâdonât know at all what youâre askinâ for. Not a fuckinâ clue.â
Joel lifts his palm. âI do, too,â you argue. âPlease, Joel, I can handle it.â
âSure you can, sweetheart.â
âIâll be good.â
Those three little words make Joelâs breath hitch in his throat. You have to know exactly what you do to him, with the looks you give him and the way you beg. Youâll be good. God, heâs gonna end up fucking giving it to you. He shouldnât, he really fucking shouldnât.
âPlease?â
Joel sighs heavily, worn down by your incessant, sweet fucking begging. And honestly, what he wouldnât give to ruin you. To fuck you in half, shatter you into pieces. So be it, he decides.Â
âFine,â Joel says. âBut this didnât fucking happen. Do you understand me?âÂ
âI understand,â you answer sweetly. Christ, your fucking good girl act. You have to know what you do to him.
âAâint fuckinâ right,â Joel mumbles, rising and yanking the covers off the bed. He quickly takes off his shirt and shucks off his pants, gripping his cock tightly as he hovers over you. He never should have fucking indulged you, but here he is. Joel reaches between your thighs to collect your arousal on his fingertips, then coats his cock in your mess. Heâs fucking huge. Heâs generously thick as well as long, and youâre not sure if youâll be able to handle it like you said you would. âNo backinâ out now,â Joel says.
âIâm a little nervous,â you admit.Â
âIâll bet you are,â Joel says, and your heart races. He lowers himself, then presses the thick tip of his cock against your pussy, dragging it through your folds before notching it inside your tight entrance. âYour pussyâs too pretty fâya to let me do this to you,â he says. âNow take a deep breath.âÂ
You take a deep breath in, and thatâs when Joel begins working himself inside you. You whine in pain, scooting back towards the headboard to try to slow it down.Â
âWhere dâya think youâre goinâ, huh? You stay right there, sweetheart.â
âSlow down, pleaseââ
âWhatâs the matter? Thought you could handle it, tough girl,â Joel taunts, squeezing your hip while sliding further inside you. Heâs not even a quarter of the way in yet, and youâre already reeling from the pain of his thick cock stretching you out. He draws out a little, admiring the tip of his cock coated in your arousal, then inches back in. âSâreally hurtinâ ya, huh?âÂ
You grab any part of him that you can, attempting to temper the way he enters you. Make it slower, gentler, lessâŚless. He pulls out a little, then pushes in further than before, earning another high-pitched whine from you.Â
âWho tried to talk ya out of it, sweetheart? Hm? Who warned ya? You remember how to say my name? It's Joel, darlinâ. Sound it out.â
Joelâs being so mean, and it makes you feel like crying. He draws in and out of you, still yet to bury himself all the way inside, watching your reactions as he holds a hand on your ribcage, making you take it all.Â
âYeah, I know. Sâa big stretch, huh? Hurtinâ pretty bad?â
âYeah,â you whimper, looking down at where your bodies connect. Youâre not even close to taking all of him in, and already it feels like heâs fucking you in two.Â
âMhm. In over your head, arenâtcha, kid? You gonna listen to me next time?â
âYes - fuck!â Joel pushes in another inch or so, and it makes you yelp in pain. âYes, Iâll listen,â you say, voice thick with tears. Joel watches them begin to fall, and he quickly wipes them away with the back of his hand.Â
âWonât hurt forever,â Joel grunts. âSâeasier fâya rip off the bandaid. Want my help with that, sweetheart? Iâll make it quick.â
âN-no,â you sniffle. âI need you to go slow.âÂ
Joel nods silently, continuing working himself inside. A small movement of his hips out, then in, then out again, and in a little further. He could make you take it all right now, be done with this whole song and dance. It really would be easier on you. The proverbial mercy-kill. That dark part of Joel sort of likes the pain he gives to you, though. He tries not to think about that too hard, stuff that feeling down deep.Â
Oh, the tears you cry. The pretty face you make, features all contorted in pain. Joel gives your hip a soothing little rub before moving his hand to your clit, massaging the sensitive bud as he pushes into you, making you whimper even more.Â
âI know it hurts.â Joel presses his palm against your cheek, rubbing your lips with his thumb as your cunt pulses around his length. âLet it be a lesson to ya, huh? Stay out of a grown manâs business. He knows betterân you. âCause look at the mess youâre in now, sweetheart, cryinâ on a cock thatâs too fuckinâ big for you. What am I gonna do with ya?âÂ
âI donât know,â you sniffle.Â
âI know you donât. Tried to tell ya this wasnât a good idea, sweet pea,â Joel whispers. âNow buck up. Youâre halfway there.âÂ
Joel takes the liberty to speed the process up, to sheathe himself in you fully, and does so quickly. At least, quicker than youâd like him to, as evidenced by your high-pitched whines. âShhhh,â Joel hushes, pushing his fingers into your mouth as if to pacify you, or distract you at the very least. âI know, I know, I know.â You bite into Joelâs palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel his cock splitting you in two.Â
âQuit your cryinâ, and breathe. I got you, kid,â he says, âWeâre finishinâ this,â then pushes in you the rest of the way, the blunt head of his cock kissing against your cervix. âThere,â he grunts, âWorst is over.â
You open your eyes, first looking at Joel and then between your bodies, where his connects to yours. You donât see any of his length left, only the long, wiry, bits of graying hair that surround his member. What you donât see - what Joel does see - is that pretty, thick bulge his dick makes against your tummy.
He lifts his hand from your mouth, âI did it?â you ask.
âYou did it,â Joel affirms. âGood job. Proud aâ ya, kiddo.â
Joel gives you a second to get used to the feeling of him buried inside you, to wrap your head around it. Thereâs not much thinking going on in that head of yours, though, that much he can tell. All cockdumb and heâs barely even fucked you.Â
It doesnât feel good yet, like it should. Itâs an intense pressure, an awful stretch, and it worsens with every throb and twitch of Joelâs massive cock. You squeeze his biceps as he lowers his head and bites your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, and then you bury your face in his curls. He draws out of you and oh, there it is. âAttagirl, easy does it,â he groans, âYou just lie there and take my cock, sweet girl. Take it good for me.âÂ
Joel sets his pace then, steadily pushing in and out of you. Itâs not violent or cruel, not even particularly harsh, but the hurt is still there. Joel rocks his hips, pulling out of you all the way and filling you right back up again with each and every stroke. Soon enough, youâre moaning.
âYeah, thatâs it. Goddamn, sweetheart. Donât hurt so bad anymore does it?â
âNo.â You shake your head. âStill hurts,â you murmur, voice tight with pain.Â
Joel chuckles. âOh, it does, huh? Tsk. Well, youâre in it now, darlinâ. Gotta see it through. Donât try anâ quit on me.â
Joel increases the speed at which he fucks you, damp curls falling over his forehead as sweat glitters on his skin, a bead of it rolling down the length of his aquiline nose. He watches you intently, a stern sort of expression painted across his features. That dimple on his right cheek flashes as he purses his lips, a grunt escaping his throat.Â
âJoel,â you choke out.Â
âMâalmost done, sweetheart. Gimme five more minutes. You can do five minutes, canât ya?â
The pain is relentless, unwavering, until it starts to vanish, replaced by a dull pleasure. It builds in time as Joel pounds into you, increases with every brush of his pubic bone against your clit. He keeps a hand on your breast, squeezing the flesh there hard enough to bruise, pinching your nipple before soothing the ache with a practiced flick of his tongue. Jesus Christ, you feel good. Your soft body, all for him. The way your poor cunt hugs him so sweetly - heâs not lasting much longer now.Â
âWhy donât you try anâ come for me, pretty girl? Can you do that fâme?â Joel licks his fingers and starts to rub your clit in those same circles from earlier, coaxing along your release.Â
Itâs no surprise you come as hard as you do, as quickly as you do. All pent up for god only knows how long, and the way you were hellbent on staving off your climax earlier. Itâs enough to ruin anyone.Â
With a couple more good, hard thrusts, youâre clenching around Joelâs cock, his name spilling from your lips as you come undone. Poor girl. You look so overwhelmed, so fucking wrecked as you come so hard, and itâs no wonder to Joel why exactly that is. âThere it is,â Joel coos, wiping away the tears you cry. âOhh, yeah. Thatâs a good one.âÂ
Joel guides you through your orgasm as he chases his own, fucking you harder and deeper. He pounds you in non-rhythm, his thrusts frenzied and frantic before heâs coming too, spilling load after hot load of his come inside you, filling you with the most soothing warmth. He pulls out of you quickly to watch his spend spill from between your thighs, and itâs so intimate, the way he watches you experience that private pleasure.Â
âGoddamn, baby. I fuckinâ ruined her,â Joel whispers, gathering a bit of his spend on his fingertips to push it back inside. âWhyâd you want me do that to ya, huh?â
You only shrug. Words are hard for you right now.Â
âShe still hurtinâ a little?â
âA little,â you answer quietly.Â
âMhm, sheâs all swollen. Mâgonna kiss her all better, alright? Iâll be nice anâ gentle.âÂ
Joel taps your hip and mumbles something you donât hear, what with the ringing in your ears, then lifts your bottom half and slides a pillow beneath you. He parts your legs, and is so profoundly tender as he drags a thumb through your sensitive, slick flesh.Â
As promised, his lips replace his fingers. Joel begins with a quick kiss, then another, and another. His facial hair feels almost sharp against you, almost painful, but his tongue is so soft. So practiced as he licks up the seam of your cunt, tasting his own work - not that he minds, really. His lips quickly attach to your clit, and he suckles gently. You donât need much, not right now. He keeps himself buried in that beautiful space between your thighs until youâre coming again, a little softer than before. Gentler. The quiet after the storm.Â
Youâre crying, all overwhelmed still. Joel scoops you up into his arms and covers you with the comforter, quietly shushing you. âI know, sweet girl. Itâs over now. Was a lot, wasnât it?â
âMhm,â you hum, sniffling still.Â
âSâwhy you gotta listen to me, hm?â Joel pushes some hair out of your face, then kisses your warm cheek as he lays you on your side. He fixes the blankets, lays them all out flat and even before taking his place next to you, curling his frame around you. âI gotcha, kiddo.âÂ
As you settle into bed, Joel scratches up and down your side, and kisses your shoulder. âTwo orgasms,â he mutters. âYou made out like a fuckinâ bandit, sweet pea. You know that?â
Another shrug, and Joel chuckles. âYou gonna be a good girl and go to sleep now?âÂ
âYes, Joel.â
âAlright. Sweet dreams, trouble.â
If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with some sweet thoughts or hop in my inbox đŠˇđŠˇ your kind words go farther than you know in keeping me motivated to write. Itâs been a while. Iâve missed my Joelie perverts đŤđ
hiii i know its been a very long while, however i will be making a joel miller story soon!! im still debating if i want to do neighbor!joel, dbf!joel, bfd!joel but nonetheless itll be summer-y n lots of fun heheheh updates soon <3
still figuring some things out with the story!! <333333
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hiii i know its been a very long while, however i will be making a joel miller story soon!! im still debating if i want to do neighbor!joel, dbf!joel, bfd!joel but nonetheless itll be summer-y n lots of fun heheheh updates soon <3
still figuring some things out with the story!! <333333
âYouâre gonna work on these every day. And Iâm gonna check to make sure you did âem all, and if you did, you get to put a sticker down. And if we fill this sheet all the way up by the end of the week, Iâll make ya cum,â Joel explains. âThatâs how you can earn back your privileges, Pumpkin.â
Tags - one shot, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, orgasm denial, ddlg dynamics, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, sneaking around with bad influence uncle tommyyyyy, joel jerks off, sex before dinner, angst + tension, spankings, rewards and punishments, elements of abuse, hurt/lots of comfort, pinky promises, dark. this is a work of fiction, and all characters are adults.
A/N - have I ever not delivered. hereâs your uncle tommy fill, as promised. thank you to two anons who know who they are for helping with the creation of this fic, and thank you to my dear L for editing with me! anyway, it's been a minute but i'm happy to see you all :) hope you enjoy. i wrote this through a splitting headache so i'm going to chill now.
Your bedroom door clicks as Joel unlocks it from the other side, and the hinges groan and creak as he pushes it open. He looks at your figure lying in your bed, warm sunlight painting over your skin. Joel knows youâre not sleeping. Youâre just lying in the quiet room, soaking up the sun like a kitten.Â
âHi, kiddo,â Joel greets softly, smiling before taking long strides across the room to meet you. Heâs stepping over your clothes and tripping on other odds and ends before he reaches you - youâve been picking out your own clothes lately. Apparently youâve been less than impressed with Joelâs sense of fashion. Ooohkay, he thought. Youâre such a messy girl with the way you try on all of your clothes, then leave them all on the floor. Those, coupled with old, expired bottles of nail polish and lip gloss. Joel told you not to use those lip glosses, but theyâre just pretty to look at sometimes.Â
âJesus, girl. Fuckinâ roomâs a pigsty,â he says, and he sits on the end of your bed, springs creaking with the shift in weight.Â
You ignore him. Joel leans over and kisses both of your cheeks and then your forehead, then your nose. âDonât smile,â he teases, âDonât you dare laugh.â And he repeats this, his facial hair tickling your skin, until youâre giggling and your eyes finally open.Â
âOhh, there she is. Morninâ, Pumpkin,â Joel says, chuckling at the way you squint through the bright sunlight.Â
âMmmâŚmorning, Dââ youâre interrupted by your own yawn, which makes Joel laugh. âDaddy.âÂ
Joel pushes some hair out of your eyes. âLazy ass,â he mumbles. âListen, kiddo. Mâon patrol today, so youâre gonna be home all alone. Yâgonna be alright?â he asks, softly stroking the skin on your cheek. âGonna be a good girl?âÂ
He wonders if he can trust you. If he can give you this inch, and you wonât take a mile. The doors and windows will stay locked, of course, but thereâs other things he worries about. Joel knows you, you know. Youâre never as sneaky as you think you are.Â
âMhm. Iâm always good, Daddy.âÂ
Joel rolls his eyes. âUh huh, fuckinâ smartass. You can make eggs anâ toast for breakfast, and thereâs leftovers in the fridge for lunch. Weâll figure out supper later, hm? Maybe weâll go to the cafeteria. See what theyâre cookinâ up.âÂ
âYeah, that sounds good,â you smile.Â
âGood.â Joel pats his thighs and then stands up, knees popping loudly. âAnd I want you to clean all this shit up, alright? Didnât raise ya to leave messes.âÂ
You sigh heavily. âI know. Iâll do it.âÂ
âGood girl.â Joel bends down and kisses your head one last time. âEat all your lunch anâ have a good day. I love ya.â
You love days where youâre home alone. You used to hate it, and Joel wouldnât let it happen a whole lot. You hated how lonely it felt, how quiet. Youâd hear things go bump that werenât there, and youâd feel justâŚnervous. Joel came home once and found you all scared and trembling, and he promised heâd be home with you as much as he could.Â
He made good on his promise. And you liked being home with him until you didnât, until you found it suffocating and boring. Scary. Joelâs house went from being a quiet safe haven away from the horrors of the world to a sort of horror in and of itself. A Sisyphean loop, where nothing ever changes. And it never will, no matter how much you tug on your windows that are bolted shut, or yank on your door that only Joel can unlock. You can never leave.Â
Youâd stare longingly out the window, hoping to go outside on your own. Just once, maybe. To go in the woods and wander, pick at strange flowers and plants and everything else. Just be alone. Joel grants you so much, and yet, you want so much more than that.
It makes you feel bad, if youâre being honest with yourself. You know whatâs out there. What he saved you from. You know youâre safer with Joel, and you know everything heâs done to keep you safe and comfortable and happy. Youâre in good hands with him, even if theyâre hands that hurt you sometimes. Hit you. Spank you. Choke you. Theyâre still Joelâs hands, and theyâre warm, right? And they love you.Â
He said when the weather warms up some more heâll take you to the lake. You really hope he does.Â
You spend the day reading, drawing, watching birds and other critters that come by. Joel thinks itâs cute, the way youâve named the chipmunks and squirrels that frequent his patio. How you recognize them like theyâre your friends.Â
Joel tries to leave his bad mood away from home. He knows heâs got a habit of carrying it with him, and regrettably, taking it out on you. You take your moods out on him too, though. Not that it matters. He curses himself for even acknowledging the fact. Heâs older, heâs wiser, heâs more patient. Youâre not. Heâs the parent, youâre the child. But when he comes home, you can tell it was a bad day. You can hear it in his footsteps and in the way he breathes, and it makes you tense. âYâready for dinner?â he asks, voice tired.Â
âMhm.âÂ
âDidnât hear ya, kiddo. Speak up.âÂ
âMhm.âÂ
âNo, no mumblinâ. Use your words and tell me, yes or no,â Joel demands, feeling his blood pressure begin to spike.Â
âYes.âÂ
Oh, you fuckingâŚyou. Youâre always going to match Joelâs temper. You stare at him and he glares back, balling his fists before turning on his heel to get changed. You both need something to eat, before this goes from zero to one hundred.Â
But then Joel goes upstairs, and he walks past your bedroom and sees that nothing - nothing is picked up. Heâs back downstairs before he even thinks it through. Before he showers and takes a moment to breathe, even.Â
âWhatâd I fuckinâ tell you?âÂ
Your stomach drops at his tone. âWhat?â
âI asked ya to take care of your room, and I come home to see youâve done fuck all.âÂ
âI guess I just forgot, Daddy. Iâll do it tomorrow.â
Joel scoffs, âYeah, uh huh.â He pauses for a moment, then puts his hands on his hips. âWe talked about this, Pumpkin.âÂ
âTalked about what?â you ask, and it makes Joel fucking irate that you wonât turn your head to look at him.Â
âLook at me when youâre speakinâ tâme,â he barks, startling you. Looking at him from across the room, you can see he means business. Joelâs eyes are already dark to begin with, but theyâve gone black - so depthless and so endless that you canât tell whatâs behind them.Â
âYouâve been slackinâ,â Joel says in a low tone, breathing heavily as he takes heavy steps toward you. âSâgettinâ old, kid.âÂ
âI know, I justââ
âJusâ what?â
You pick at your chipping, poorly-applied nail polish as you roll the answer around in your mind. âI donât really want to do chores. I mean, I know my room isâŚbut the other stuff, IââÂ
âTough. You live under my roof, yâlive under my rules.â
âThen itâs your roof, your mess.âÂ
The words come out before you can even think about them. You press your lips together immediately, shrinking in your seat a little at the way Joel cocks his eyebrow and puts his hands on his hips. âWanna try that again?â he asks, and you know what this is, what it is heâs doing: heâs giving you an out. And itâs awfully generous of him, considering. âDonât make this a bad night,â he warns.
You pause this time, thinking about what you want to say next. Iâm sorry, Daddy is that fucking close to rolling off of your lips when you notice that little wren sitting on the windowsill. Sheâs a frequent visitor, and Joel says sheâs just like you. Fiery, assertive, sometimes. Vocal. A pistol.Â
She looks at you for a minute, then flies off. It sends a pang of longing through your heart, and perhaps even jealousy that that beautiful little bird can spread her wings and fly away and youâŚcanât. Not with the locked doors and windows, not while eternally existing under Joelâs fucking microscope.
âI didnât ask to live here, Joel,â you bite.Â
âOh, sâthatâs how weâre doinâ this? This is how tonightâs gonna go?âÂ
âYeah.â You get up from your place on the couch and shove into Joelâs shoulder, but he shoves you right back down. He glares at you, and you glare back as hard as you fucking can. Staring at him like you wish you could fuckingâŚyou donât even know. Youâre blinded by the same rage and upset that Joel is at this moment, but without the agency to do one fucking thing about it. Joel, on the other hand.Â
He takes your jaw in his hand, squeezing your bones tight enough to bruise the soft flesh that covers them. When you jerk your head away, he squeezes tighter. âYou donât get to walk away from me,â he growls, leaning in close enough that you can feel his hot breath on your face. âI do a lot for ya. Done a lot for ya,â he says in a low tone.
âYou never let me leave,â you argue. âYou trap me.âÂ
That gets Joel, wounds him a little. His face changes when you say that, before twisting back into something darker. âThatâs what you think, huh? That I trap ya?â
You swallow thickly, then part your lips to speak. Joel cuts you off with a wave of his hand. âI keep you safe,â Joel whispers. âFed. Happy. Anâ all I ask is that you follow a few simple rules. Thatâs all. You wanna go back out there on your own, with the fuckinâ raiders and clickers, I can make that happen. Watch.â
Joelâs jaw ticks as he glares at you, fuming at the indignant little look on your fucking face. He could hit you right now, right across your cheek. Or maybe heâll bend you over his knee and beat you until your ass is fucking raw and bleeding. Thatâll teach you, thatâll fuckinâ teach youâŚ
The anger flows through his veins like a fucking poison, and only when one of Joelâs knuckles crack, startling him, does he let your face go. He didnât realize he was holding you so hard.
âI donât like you,â you whisper.Â
Joel makes a face at the statement, then nods, because heâs heard it all before. It hurt the worst the first time you said it, but you came back to him crying, hours later when youâd had a nightmare and needed him. Not want - that wasnât the word you picked. You said you needed him, Daddy, and you were so sorry. You didnât mean it. You love him and you need him.Â
He clicks his tongue against his teeth. âMânot too keen on you either, right now, Pumpkin.â   Â
The room is tense as you and Joel stare each other down, and neither of you budge until Joel tells you to go to your room and stay there. He tells you that you can forget going out to dinner, and you can stay in your bedroom until he feels like looking at your face again. Youâre grounded, too - he doesnât say from what. Now get out of his sight before he fucking hurts you.
Youâre in your room forever, the hours alone spent alone passing like days. The sun went down forever ago, and you canât stop yourself from crying. You held it together long enough downstairs while fighting with Joel but the moment you stepped foot into your room, you burst like a dam.Â
And it sucks to cry alone, to not have Joel there to hold you and wipe your tears. But is that what youâd want? Is that what would make it all better? Maybe. Joel has a special way of being your heaven and hell, all in one man. Heâs both your nightmare and your solace after a bad dream. What are you supposed to make of that? What are you supposed to do other than cry like this?
You donât bother wiping your tears when thereâs a double knock at the door. âSâme,â Joel says. âMâcominâ in.âÂ
You keep your back turned to him as he enters your bedroom with a plate and a glass of water, and he sets both down on your nightstand. âWent and grabbed some food. I gotchaâŚletâs see here. Chicken, mashed potatoes, corn.âÂ
âNot hungry.âÂ
âNot even for some pumpkin pie?â Joel asks, noticing the way your eyes widen at the mention. âStill your favorite, right?â
You pause. âNo,â you answer, eventually.
âNo?â Joel asks. âHmm. Guess Iâll eat it myself. Mâgonna get even fatter than I already amâŚthis is a very unhealthy thing to do to your dear old man, yâknow,â Joel says, cutting into the pie with the side of his fork, which scrapes against the ceramic plate. You flip over and sit up, and Joel feeds you the bite instead of eating it himself. âThere she is,â he murmurs.Â
Thatâs how you got the nickname. Joel asked your name many times back in that cold, shitty cabin. You wouldnât tell him. He understood, of course, and he told you his name anyway. You were always such a stubborn girl. For the life of him, Joel could not figure out why you wouldnât come back to Jackson with him, why the hell you were so apprehensive about trusting him. Most people jump at the opportunity to stay in the cozy, warm settlement butâŚnot you.Â
You were a tough nut to crack. It took a lot of time for you to trust Joel. He used to sit in that cabin with you while on his patrols - Tommy would show up sometimes, too. Heâd just sit with you, talk a little, the way youâd do with a stray dog in a shelter. Heâd bring you warm thermoses full of soup or tea and sandwiches for you to eat, and he was just patient.
And it was pumpkin pie that finally got you to come home with him. He brought you a slice one day, and you scarfed it down quickly and asked if he had more. âNope,â he answered. âGotta come back to Jackson fâya want more. Got all the pumpkin pie you could eat.â
You mulled it over in your mind more than you ever had. And this was after weeks of Joel visiting you, bringing you food, sometimes dry wood to keep your fireplace warm. You didnât trust him yet, but you didnâtâŚnot trust him. And you really wanted that fucking pie.Â
It was your choice to live with Joel, too. When he brought you back, they offered to put you in a house with other girls around your age. Nope. You wanted to be with Joel. Somewhere deep down, you know you picked him to be yours before he picked you to be his. Doesnât that make you a little responsible for where you are now?Â
âYeah, alright, Pumpkin. I guess I could make some room for ya,â he winked.
âBreakinâ rules here,â Joel murmurs. âIt goes dinner first, then dessert. Right?â
You ignore him as you swallow your bite. Heâs only teasing. And besides, this is not a battle he wants to fight. At least youâre eating, anyway. Joel puts his hand on your knee and speaks softly, âI shouldnât have gotten on your ass the way I did.âÂ
âNo. You shouldnât have,â you snap, and Joel feeds you another bite of pie. You take the fork and eat the rest of the slice quickly, then lay back down and flip over.   Â
His poor, sweet, tender-hearted girl. Donât you know that attitude of yours is only gonna get you in trouble? Joel thinks it's just where youâre at in life - he thought he knew the world like the back of his hand when he was your age, too.Â
Joel turns your face and wipes your tear-stained cheeks, all swollen and raw. Eyes rimmed red as more tears well up, then spill down, back into your hairline. âOh, sweetheart. What am I gonna do with ya?â he sighs, gently thumbing away those tears again. He wipes a few crumbs of pie crust from your lips, too.
You sniffle and shrug, avoiding his gaze. A hiccuping sob escapes your lips. âS'okay. Drink some water,â Joel tells you, pulling you upright. He gives you the glass, has you take a few sips, and he notices the way you look at his hand between your thighs. He notices your muscles twitching, eyes wideningâŚknows exactly what you want as he rubs his thumb over the skin. Joel knows you want him to fuck you, to make you feel good, because you always feel better after he gets you off. Presses your little reset button. Heâd reckon those pretty pink panties of yours are a little soaked, too. Poor thing. And isnât this part of tonightâs problem?Â
You canât get anything past Joel. Youâll never be able to.Â
âDaddyââ
âNot tonight, kiddo. Yâlost them privileges.âÂ
âPlease,â you beg. Joel takes your glass of water and sets it down on the nightstand.Â
âNo,â Joel bites, pulling his hand away. He pulls your blankets over your shoulders, then turns off your lamp. âDaddyâs gonna have to think of a way for you to earn âem back.â He kisses you on the forehead, saddened by the way you turn away from him. âI love ya with my whole heart, Pumpkin, but you are gonna learn that there are consequences for your actions. Now get some sleep.â
Joel takes the glasses and checks to make sure the baby monitor is on, then leaves you. A night of sleep will be good for you both.Â
But it is a hard night, isnât it? You spend the night tossing and turning - Joel can hear it on the tinny, crackling speakers of the receiver. He doesnât rest any easier either, so he gets in the shower late at night. Maybe the distant noise of the running water will soothe you to sleep.Â
He washes his hair and his body, then grips his cock tightly in his fist. He strokes himself slowly, top to bottom and over and over again, building to a quicker pace in short time. âOhh, Pumpkin,â he whispers, cumming over his knuckles. Joel rinses himself off and dries himself, then checks on you in your bedroom - youâre out like a light. Good. Fuck, he hates fighting with you.Â
In the morning, you tiptoe down the stairs, stopping first behind the wall to steal a peek at Joel before he sees you. Heâs got breakfast made already - French toast, eggs, hash browns. You take your place at the table, yawning as you twirl a fork between your fingers. âMorninâ, sweetheart,â Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. He serves you a large helping of breakfast, your Felix the cat cup is already filled with juice. âSleep okay?â he asks, sitting next to you and serving himself.Â
You shrug.Â
âYeah, me too,â Joel agrees. You and he eat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sounds being the chirping birds and the cutlery scraping against the plates. Joel finishes his food before you do, and when he does, he gets up from the table. You watch him set his dish by the sink, then grab a couple of papers or something from the counter and bring them back to the table. âBeen thinkinâ about how you can earn back your privileges,â Joel begins. Your attention is immediately caught by a few shiny, sparkly papers, decorated in little stars. âStickers,â Joel explains, peeling one off and sticking it on your nose. âSee?â
âMhm.â You grab the packs of stickers, but Joel tugs them back.Â
âAh, ah, ah. Canât have those yet. You gotta earn âem.â Joel shows you a larger paper next, something he made and drew up himself. âPumpkinâs Honey-Do Listâ.
âWhatâs honey-do?â
âSâa chore chart,â Joel explains. âHoney, do this for me. Honey, do that. Get it?â You nod. âWeâre gonna use this chart to keep track of your chores, okay?âÂ
Before you answer, you take some time to look over the chores Joel wants you to do. Sunday through Saturday Joel wants you to tidy your room every day. âEvery day?â you whine, thinking of the enormous mess sitting in there right now. Itâs gonna take for fucking ever to deal with all of that.
âEvery day,â Joel answers. âFâya stay on top of it, itâs not much of an issue. Been tryinâ to tell ya that, Pumpkin.âÂ
The rest of the daily chores listed are no surprise. Do the dishes, set the table, make the bed, sweep. But thereâs some new ones at the bottom of the chart - dust all the shelves and baseboards, wash the windows, mop. Joel explains that they only have to be done once at some point this week.Â
âYouâre gonna work on these every day,â Joel says. âAnd Iâm gonna check to make sure you did âem all, and if you did, you get to put a sticker down. And if we fill this sheet up by the end of the week, Iâll make ya feel good again. Thatâs how you can earn back your privileges.â
You think about it, looking over the chore chart. Joelâs all capital letter handwriting, and the silly pumpkins he drew at the top of the chart. âHey, you,â Joel taps your arm. âWe square?â
You still donât know. You donât know why youâre hesitant. Youâre justâŚthatâs just who you are. Stubborn, indignant. A rebel with a heart of gold.Â
âPsst. Take the fuckinâ deal, kiddo.âÂ
âOkay, Daddy.âÂ
Joel holds out his fist, pinky finger extended. You wrap your pinky around his, and then he brings both his and your hands to his lips and kisses your knuckle. Â
You get started after breakfast, cleaning up your room while Joel takes care of some other stuff around the house. Itâs not so bad when you have a goal in mind and a better attitude about the entire thing. It goes by quickly, too, and you feel better when your room is put back together. You donât know why you let it get so bad. Maybe itâs reflective of your mood.Â
Dishes come next, and itâs made easier because Joel cleans as he cooks. Itâs just a matter of washing and drying a few plates and forks and glasses, then putting them back into the cabinets. Sweeping comes after that, and then youâre done until dinner tonight when Joel needs the table set.Â
It is nice to walk through the house with him as he inspects your work. The concentrated frown on his face as he looks in your closet at all your clothes all hung up and folded neat, and the way it splits into a smile of approval. âYâdid good, kiddo,â he murmurs as he kisses your head. It takes you a moment to decide how exactly you want to place the stickers down, but you like doing it. Itâs going to look so pretty when itâs filled in.Â
Tomorrow is the same, and the next day, and the next day. Joel does his walk throughs every evening, and then you do your stickers at the table. âMm, doinâ some neat patterns there, I see,â Joel says gently.Â
âMhm.â
âVery pretty, sweetheart. Iâm so proudâa ya,â he smiles. âCouple more days, right? Finish strong.âÂ
When you wake up on Friday, you feel excited. Thereâs really not much in your room to clean, not much to sweep around the house, not much of anything to do, really.Â
âŚUntil Joel reminds you about the specials. âAhem,â Joel says, pointing to the chores at the bottom of the chart. âThese needâa get done, too.âÂ
âOh, fuck.â You cover your mouth before Joel has a chance to scold you. âSorry.âÂ
He makes a face at you, but he lets it go. If letting a dirty word slip is the worst thing youâve done all week, then so be it. You probably picked it up from him, after all.Â
Joel quickly makes you a sandwich at the counter, then slices it in half and puts it in the fridge. Thatâll be your lunch later. âUncle Tommyâs coming by today,â Joel says. âBut donât think you can sweet talk him into helpinâ you with those chores, Pumpkin. This is still a punishment.âÂ
âMhm. I know, Daddy.âÂ
âGood girl.â Joel kisses you quickly on the cheek, then heâs out the door. âI love ya. Be home later.âÂ
When Joel leaves, you go upstairs and shower, then pick out something to wear - just a pair of shorts and a tee, neither of which you particularly like, but thatâs okay. You donât want to dirty your favorite clothes. After checking your list, you get started with dusting first. Youâll work top to bottom, and then do the windows at the very end, per Joelâs suggestion.Â
Dusting is tedious. Itâs tedious to take every little knickknack and tchotchke off the shelves, but you do like the way the wood sparkles after you wipe it clean. And it feels better, too. Thereâs a noticeable difference when you clean the place, like youâre washing away everything bad thatâs built up over time and starting anew.Â
You pause cleaning briefly to eat the sandwich Joel made you, and then youâre back to cleaning, on your hands and knees as you wipe the baseboards. You still have some tall cabinets and shelves to dust, but youâll figure that out later.Â
The back door opening startles you, and in comes Tommy, handsome as ever and smiling so big when he sees you. âHiya, sweetheart.âÂ
âHi, Uncle Tommy,â you greet. You feel Tommyâs eyes on you as you dust, tracing over every inch of your figure. Itâs awkward as you clean and Tommy stands there. Youâre not exactly sure what he was sent here to do. Maybe heâs your babysitter or something.Â
He peruses the house, and you wonder what heâs thinking. You have a more difficult time reading him than you do Joel, though that doesnât mean Joel is always easy to read, either. Tommy notices your chore chart and smirks at it. Good fucking god.Â
Baseboards are done now, so itâs time to finish those cabinets. You drag a chair over to the kitchen counters, but even with the added height, you canât reach the tops. âUncle Tommy?â you ask.Â
âYeah, honey.âÂ
âDo you know if Joel has a step stool or something around here?âÂ
Tommy holds up a finger before heâs off to check for you. Thereâs nothing in the closet, nothing in the garage, either. âDonât think so, sweetheart.âÂ
âHmmâŚâÂ
âWhatcha thinkinâ?â
Joel would throttle you if he knew what you were about to do, but heâs the one who didnât account for your inability to reach the tops of the cabinets he wants cleaned. You hoist yourself up onto the counter top with a rag in hand, wobbling as you stand up tall.Â
âWoah, woah, woah. Let me use the chair anâ Iâll get âem myself, darlinâ,â Tommy says as he stands behind you, his fingers tapping against your legs as he gets ready to catch you. He gets a nice look up your shorts from this angle, too, llikes the lace on your panties. âGonna crack your goddamn skull open, girl.âÂ
âYouâre not supposed to help me,â you tell him, frowning at how disgusting the tops of these cabinets are. âEw.âÂ
âSays who?â
âDaddy,â you answer.Â
âOhhh. Daddy says so, huh?â
You sigh, âYep.â
Tommy rolls his eyes. âGet down, honey. I donât like ya up there like that.â
You know better than to argue with Uncle Tommy. Heâs fun, sure. But he does have the authority to do whatever Joel does to you, too. Joelâs made it clear that when Tommyâs around, you are to listen and obey him the same as you listen to Joel himself. You turn around and bend down slowly, feeling nervous and unstable on your feet. âCâmere, sweet pea. I gotcha.â Tommy grabs your waist and steadies you, grunting as he helps you down.Â
âCanât believe your old manâs gotcha doinâ all these chores without any music,â Tommy says. You shrug, and Tommyâs off toward the living room where Joelâs got a turntable and some vinyls. He puts them on every once in a while, but youâre not always into the music he picks.Â
Tommy puts on Jim Croce and does a little dance that makes you giggle. He wiggles his hips and snaps his fingers, biting down on his bottom lip. âAlright,â Tommy claps his hands together. âLetâs get to work.âÂ
He takes the rag from your hand and stands on the chair, dusting the tops of the cabinets himself. âI appreciate this, Uncle Tommy, but you really shouldnâtâŚif Joel finds outââ
âYou gonna tell on me, sweetheart?â
âN-noâŚâ you mumble, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.Â
âThen your daddy wonât find out,â Tommy replies.Â
He finishes the cabinets quickly, then gets off of his chair with a grunt. âOkay, darlinâ. What else ya gotta do?â
âUhmmmâŚâ you trail off, mentally tallying the chores youâve already done. With Tommyâs help, youâre just about finished. âWindows are last,â you tell him.Â
Tommy nods. He grabs a spray bottle from a closet as well as two squeegees, then hands you one. âYou wanna do the outsides or the insides, sweetheart?âÂ
âInsides,â you answer. âIâm not supposed to go outside without Joel.âÂ
Tommy makes a real show of looking around, raising his eyebrows and squinting dramatically. âFunny, darlinâ, I donât see Joel anywhere,â he says, then pauses. âWhy donâtcha wash the outsides and get some fresh air, honey?â
âOkay,â you smile. Tommy gives you the spray, then opens the door and tells you to meet him at the kitchen window. You feel exhilarated as you leave and round the house, loving the sun on your skin and the breeze in your hair. When you meet him on the other side of the window, he motions for you to spray yours down, which you do. Then Tommy opens the window and reaches for the spray, then shuts the window. You flinch when he squirts it at you, and laugh when it hits the glass and not yourself. Tommy winks, then squeegees his side of the window as you do the same.Â
He nods his head to motion to you to go to the next window, where you and he repeat the routine. You do the same with the next one and the one after that, and when youâre finished, you come back inside and rest on the couch.Â
âThink that means weâre âbout done, huh?â
âYep,â you answer, then pause. âYou wonât tell Joel, right?â
Tommy sits next to you and zips his lips. âMânot a narc, honey. So we get to put stickers on your chart now, donât we?â
You shake your head. âNope. Joel has to do a walk through,â you explain.Â
âAhhhh,â Tommy nods, understanding. âSo whatcha gettinâ for fillinâ in all the stickers?â
Your cheeks heat up at the question and you shy away from Tommy, which makes him laugh. You have no poker face at all.Â
âUh huh,â Tommy winks. âOh, I get it.â
You squirm in place a little, wondering if you should talk more about it. You kind of want to, honestly. Joel tells you that you can tell him anything, but you know you canât. Not just anything. âItâs been a week,â you admit finally to Tommy, and immediately you feel relieved to have someone else to talk to about this. About Joel. âWell, almost. Tomorrow makes a week.âÂ
Tommy scoffs. âWell shit, kiddo. Your old manâs a fuckinâ hard ass.â You shrug silently, and Tommy raises an eyebrow at you. âYou can agree, yâknow. Ainât gonna hurt. Anâ I wonât tell him if ya do, either.âÂ
âA little,â you admit, quietly. But Tommy hears, and he smiles.Â
âCanât go a day without it, myself,â Tommy tells you, stretching out on the couch a little. He rests his hand on your thigh, drawing little patterns down to your knee and back up again, patterns that make your skin tingle and make you feel funny inside. Nervous, excitedâŚin almost the same way Joel makes you feel nervous and excited. But thereâs an added layer here. You know you shouldnât be letting Tommy do this to you.
âI think you should reward yourself, âf Iâm beinâ honest. You did all your chores, after all. Right?âÂ
â...yeah.â Uncle Tommy has a funny way of making the guilt in your belly disappear, if not for just a moment. Itâs in the way he speaks and the words he chooses, and itâs in his sparkling brown eyes and his charming smile. Â
âWhy donâtcha go to your room and take care of yourself, then? Hm?â
You shake your head. âJoel - Daddy says Iâm not allowed to,â you reply.Â
âOhh. Not allowed to do it by yourself.â Tommy clicks his tongue and turns his head toward you. âSâtoo goddamn bad. Joelâs gotcha on a short fuckinâ leash, donât he?â
He slides his hand up your thigh, inching his pinky finger past your shorts. Tommy likes the way your breath hitches in your throat when he traces the thin, damp fabric of your panties with just his fingertip. Sensitive fuckinâ girl.
âAnd youâre really hurtinâ for it too, I can tell. A fuckinâ week, good lord,â Tommy whispers, then pauses before speaking again. âWell, Iâd reckon youâre not doinâ nothinâ wrong by lettinâ Uncle Tommy make ya cum, huh?âÂ
âI-â you stutter, âI really - I donât know, Uncle Tommy.â
Tommy grins, his eyes so warm and so black, so endless. âOh, sweetheart. Ainât nothinâ wrong with it in my book.â He wriggles his fingers up your shorts a little more, and slips them past your panties. That little gasp when he touches your lip, lightly teasing you there. Good lord.Â
âThen sâgonna be our little secret,â Tommy whispers. âSomethinâ special, jusâ for me and my sweet girl,â he says. âHow âbout that, darlinâ?â
You nod before the little voice in your head telling you not to do this becomes too loud. You can trust Tommy, right? He wouldnât do anything to get you into trouble with Joel. And like he always says, what Joel doesnât know wonât kill him.Â
You canât ever pull one over on Joel, but you can try. And if Tommyâs right, and he probably is - youâll succeed. Â
âGood girl,â says Tommy, pulling your body into his lap. He unbuttons your shorts and pushes them down your legs, then cups your pussy with his large hand. You sigh at the relief that comes with the pressure, resting against Tommyâs chest. âCâmere, honey. I gotcha.âÂ
You spread your legs for him and he rubs you through your panties, just lazily at first, feeling you dampen the fabric. He traces your clit next, âOh, fuck,â you moan, leaning into him. âMore,â you gasp.Â
Tommy slides his hand under your panties, touching your bare heat. Youâre so fucking warm and so fucking wet, with that pool of arousal heâs created. And it didnât take much, did it? No, no. Of course not, not when youâve been starving for it for so long. Longer than a week, too. Tommy knows the way you look at him and what goes on in that head of yours. And if he were a betting man, heâd bet that when you do summon the courage to get yourself off on your own fingers, despite Joelâs rule, that youâre thinking of him. Maybe not every time, but enough. Â
âUncle Tommy,â you moan, eyes squeezing shut as you arch into his touch. You rock your hips as he circles your clit, reaching for his thick bicep. You hold him tightly, whimpering, âOh my god.â
âYâwanna hold onto me?â Tommy chuckles quietly, rubbing you slowly. âYou can hold onto me, sweet pea. Mânot goinâ nowhere. Jusâ you and me right now, sweet girl.âÂ
Heâs so warm, and he smells so fucking good. Itâs nice to be in a pair of arms that are safe and dangerous, but different from Joelâs safe and dangerous. You watch yourself in the freshly cleaned windows, all wrecked as Tommy pleasures you.Â
Heâs sliding his fingers down your seam next, then pushing two into your entrance. And itâs when he curls them rhythmically, looking for that special, sweet little place deep inside you, that you really start to moan. âRelax,â Tommy whispers, squeezing you tightly. âHold still, honey. Be good.âÂ
Tommy shifts the positions a bit so he can rub your clit with his other hand while fucking you on his fingers. Itâs not long before release is right around the corner, with all of that hot, sparkling pleasure blooming deep in your gut. Your thighs begin to shake and twitch, âYou cum nice for me now,â he whispers. âShow Uncle Tommy how hard you can cum.âÂ
And thatâs all it takes for you to fall apart, crying out loudly as he fucks you through your orgasm. Tommy doesnât let up until youâre a shuddering, gasping mess, until heâs made certain that your needs have been met. A goddamn week, he thinks. Thatâs fucking ridiculous.
âYou cum so pretty, sweetheart,â Tommy whispers, pulling his fingers away from your cunt. Theyâre all shiny and drenched in your arousal, and he brings them to his lips and sucks them clean. He pats you twice and you get up and off of him, all shy and bashful as he stands up and stretches, his rock-hard erection bulging through his denim. âFuck, look whatcha do tâme,â he groans, pressing his palm against it. âIâm off, kiddo. Gonna let me leave without a hug and a kiss?â he asks.Â
You wrap your arms around his thick middle quickly, perhaps needing the hug more than Tommy even does. You kiss his cheek, and Tommy squeezes your ass. âAlright. Keep outta trouble, honey. Iâll see ya when I see ya.â
A few hours later, Joelâs barely got a foot in the door before youâre taking him by the hand and leading him through the house, showing him how well you cleaned everything. âJesus, girl. Canât a man eat dinner first?âÂ
âNo,â you answer. âLook at the windows.â
Joel laughs, âI know, I see âem, Pumpkin. Theyâre sparklinâ.âÂ
âAnd the baseboardsââ
âAre nice and dusted, I see it all, sweetheart. You did good. Wanna go get your stickers?âÂ
You show Joel that youâve already got your stickers and your chart in hand. âGo âhead and put âem on then, honey. Yâdid good,â Joel says, then pauses as you put the rest of the stickers down. The only one thatâs missing is dishes and table setting for today, but thatâs because it hasnât been done yet. Joel tells you he trusts you, and you can put the stickers down anyway. âAnd you did do it all by yourself, right, Pumpkin?âÂ
âMhm,â you lie.Â
âAnâ if I ask Uncle Tommy if he helped, whatâs he gonna tell me?â
âNo,â you lie again.Â
âGood answer,â Joel replies, then pauses. âDid you play with yourself this week?â he asks.
âNo.âÂ
âPromise?â Joel asks. âDid anyone else play with ya?â
âNope,â you tell him. Joel smiles, then kisses you on the head and sits down on the couch as you admire your chart. You join him on the couch, sliding onto his lap instead of taking your usual place right next to him.
âHey, you,â Joel smiles. âWhatâre you makinâ me for dinner, hm?â
You shrug. âIâm not even hungry,â you tell Joel, and he makes a face.Â
âSure youâre not.âÂ
You think you know what that means, what heâs doing. Heâs deliberately quiet, waiting for you to ask for what you want. But you say nothing as you sit on his lap, eyes wide as you wait and wait and wait for what youâve earned, squirming on his lap a little. âWhatcha so squirrely for?â he asks finally.Â
âYou know, Daddy.âÂ
âMmm. Donât think I do,â Joel drawls. âMânot a mind reader, Pumpkin.âÂ
But youâre too shy to say it out loud. So you take Joelâs hand and stand up, yanking him with you. He groans as he stands up, knees cracking. You hold his hand as you lead him toward the stairwell, âWhere ya takinâ me?â he asks.Â
âMmmuhno,â you mumble, walking up the stairs with Joel trailing behind.Â
âYou dunno, huh?â he teases, amused as you take him towards his room. âMmm, Daddyâs room. Okay,â he sighs dramatically. âGuess itâs bedtime, since Pumpkin says so. And I was gonna let ya stay up anâ everything, but alright.âÂ
Youâre such a quiet, shy girl as you sit on the end of Joelâs bed, swinging your feet as he undresses himself. You pull at a string on your shorts, waiting for Joel to get the hint. Youâre sure he does, but heâs just dragging this out, the same way you are, really.Â
Joel, standing naked except for his boxers, turns to you. âYâlook like youâve got somethinâ on your mind, sweetheart.âÂ
âMm-mm,â you lie, unable to hide the smile that makes your lips curl up.Â
âOh, I think ya do. Wanna tell me what it is?â Joel asks.Â
Finally, you relent. âDid I earn back my privileges?â you ask, biting down on your smile.Â
Joel chuckles. âWas wonderinâ when youâd ask,â he says, leaning in close. He puts both of his hands on your knees, squeezing you there. âYes. You earned âem back, Pumpkin.âÂ
You hum in delight and smile so big, then whisper something in Joelâs ear. âWell lie on down, then,â Joel murmurs. âYou know what to do.âÂ
It takes no time at all for you to take off your clothes and lie on Joelâs bed completely naked, legs folded in half and swaying side to side as you wait for that inevitable dip in the mattress that comes from Joel settling between your thighs. It arrives all in good time, and Joel spreads you wide so he can devour you alive.Â
He pushes your knees toward your chest and wears a crooked smirk at how anxious you look, ready for him to start. Youâre wiggling your fingers, fidgeting with his comforter. Joel teases you with a couple of kisses pressed against your knees and your inner thighs. âDaddy,â you whine, pushing your hips toward his face.Â
âOh, I know, I know,â Joel murmurs, quieting your whines with a kiss to your pussy. âIiii know, sweet baby girl.â He licks you from bottom to top with his tongue flattened, dragging it slowly through your slick folds. And Christ, how swollen you are - poor thing. But you did it to yourself, didnât you?
âI am soââ Joel interrupts himself to suck on your clit a little, âSo proud of you, Pumpkin,â he says, âMy girl. You did so good for me, baby.âÂ
His beard tickles your inner thighs as he kisses you all over, then goes back to your clit. He circles it a few times with his tongue, then licks lower, burying his tongue in your soft, dripping entrance. You reach for his beautiful aquiline nose as he fucks you on his tongue, drawing up that gorgeous slope and past his forehead, tangling your fingers in his curly, graying hair.Â
âDaddy,â you moan, whimpering for Joel as he drags his tongue back up and down your folds. He builds a rhythmic pace then, circling your clit repeatedly, all while allowing you to rock and grind against his face. He guides you orgasm quickly, savoring the way you gush into his mouth, your clit throbbing beneath his tongue.Â
Youâre fucking soaked, a mess of both Joel and yourself. Joel shoves his boxers down his thighs, erection springing against his soft tummy, and swipes his fingers through your folds. He collects your arousal on his hand, then uses it to coat his hard length. âReady?â he asks, hovering over you.Â
âMhm.â
âYâwanna help Daddy put it in?âÂ
You nod quickly. Joel knows you like to have some semblance of control over the pace at which he enters you, so he likes to grant you that. Not always, though. Sometimes heâll split you in half just to remind you of whoâs in charge here, usually when you get a little mouthy or something like that.Â
You take Joelâs cock in your hand, tracing the bulbous head and the veins that climb up the shaft. You tilt your hips and drag him through your folds, sighing softly at the way you tease yourself.Â
âYouâre killinâ me here, kid,â Joel grunts, taking your wrist in his hand to stop you.Â
âSorry.â
âSâall good, baby.âÂ
You notch his tip at your entrance. âYour turn, Daddy,â you tell Joel softly.Â
And in he goes. He slides into you slowly, filling you with the entirety of his length. âOhh, big stretch. Attagirl,â he praises, grunting as he bottoms out.Â
It always takes you a minute to get used to him. You do your little routine, make your little faces as you squirm and get used to his cock stretching you out, and when youâre ready, Joel begins to move. âWatch,â he says. âLook, look. Wanna show you something,â Joel tells you softly. You lift your head as he pulls out, his thick length all coated in your arousal. âAinât that somethinâ?â
âYeah,â you agree, letting your head fall back again. Joel braces himself on his forearm as he thrusts back into you, building to a slow pace. Heâs in no rush, really, not when heâs sliding his big hand up your waist and over your ribcage and squeezes you there. He could crush you, you know. His delicate girl. He could do it.Â
Joel bends down and skims his mouth and the tip of his nose over your breasts, taking time to wrap his lips around both of your nipples. He loves you so much, the elegant, gentle shapes of your body. All of those curves, all for him.Â
The special way he fucks you - nothing comes close to this. No matter what, good day or bad, this will always be yours and Joelâs to savor.Â
His cock is dragging against your g-spot, his pubic hair grinding against your clit. Itâs all becoming too much, too sensitive for you to even cum. But Joel tells you to anyway. âCanât, Daddy,â you whimper.
âSure ya can,â Joel says. âSâbeen a week, honey. I know youâre needinâ it.âÂ
But are you, though? Not really, when Tommy took your punishment and reward into his own hands and made good and sure that you were well satiated before he left. And with the orgasm Joel pulled from you using his tongue, well.Â
âOne more, nice and big,â Joel encourages. âShow your daddy how hard you can cum on his cock, huh?â
Funny. Didnât Tommy say the same thing?
Joel rubs your clit in practiced circles, coaxing along your release as he thrusts into you harder, faster, and deeper. And then itâs happening, and Joelâs name is spilling from your lips in breathy moans as you cum so hard on his cock, feeling indescribably full as your pussy pulses around him. Itâs such a weighted, overwhelming feeling, and it washes over you in wave after wave. âOh, baby girl.â Joelâs right behind you, breathing your name as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting rope after rope of his cum. âTake it nice anâ deep fâme,â he says, and like the most perfect girl you are, you take it all.Â
Joel pulls out of you, not worried about the cum that spills on his comforter. Itâs seen better days anyway, he thinks.Â
After you both come down, Joel breaks the silence. âThink we should redo our date?â he asks, still breathing heavily.Â
âYes,â you answer.Â
âI think so too,â he says. âGo pick somethinâ pretty to wear, and meet me in the shower to get cleaned up. Maybe weâll see Uncle Tommy there or somethinâ too, huh?â
-
more dark daddy!joel here
anyway, i love ya. thank you for reading ⥠please dirty talk me in my inbox and reblog, because your words go a very long way in keeping me motivated to write. wouldn't be doin' this without ya.
aaaand the cat tax. remember that when it takes me a while to publish a fic, THIS IS WHO IS MAKING IT DIFFICULT TO DO SO!! okay!! do you see this! he's sitting on my arm like a fuck. fricken gizmo.
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